Ask No Questions
by Lil Lupin
Summary: After Jack decides she’s had enough, Alex is forced to live under the same roof as Wolf - fantastic. But what he discovers is a K unit that’s falling apart. Can he pull the team back together? Or is what they’ve been through too much for even Alex to fix?
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Alex Rider, else I wouldn't be publishing this on here; I'd be raking in the money from selling it. I also don't own the idea of Alex going to live with Wolf, but hopefully this will be an original twist on it. Thanks to amitai for agreeing to let me use the idea.

A/N: Well, this is my first AR fanfic, and my return to fanfiction in quite a while! I've written a fair amount of the story already, and it will definitely not be abandoned – I have big plans for it! Hope you enjoy the chapter everyone, and don't forget to review :)

Chapter One

Alex Rider had realised, by now, that any chance he had of feeling like a normal teenager had probably disappeared with the death of Ian Rider last March.

It was questionable, of course, whether he had actually ever been _allowed_ to be normal. Ian Rider had seen to it that he could defend himself, lie flawlessly and take care of himself for as long as he would have to. He had shown Alex how to read people and, moreover, how to extract information from them without their realising. Alex's uncle had trained him into the perfect spy. He probably hadn't anticipated that Alex's high level of competency in these skills had the potential to save an SAS unit from falling apart.

On this particular winter evening, Alex himself didn't expect that he would even see the SAS again soon. He had no desire to. Instead, he was sitting on a sofa in Starbucks, dressed casually in light jeans and a navy hoody, trying to feel like a normal teenager again. Sabina Pleasure sat opposite him, looking, as always, like she had somehow achieved perfection without any effort at all. There had been a lot of these coffee shop outings in the week since she had turned up on his doorstep. They had talked about everything under the sun – Alex had told her about what he'd been up to since she'd left (though he had left out the more colourful details, such as Scorpia sending him to kill Mrs. Jones, the bullet wound and anything about his godfather) and she had told him all about America. Alex was grateful for the time he spent with Sabina. He was beginning to relax somewhat. MI6 was leaving him alone. Yet still he didn't feel quite like a normal teenager.

"Al, you're in a dark place again," Sabina informed him, leaning forward and revealing an eyeful of cleavage that even Alex noticed. "Stop."

Sabina told him he was in a 'dark place' at least twice each time he saw her. Jack told him more. Alex blinked and gave her a small smile to show Sabina he was fine, but his thoughts were now on Jack. Jack had been angry with him lately, he could tell. He could understand it was difficult for her when he was sent away. But he couldn't help it. She had to realise that.

He could see she was having trouble believing him anymore, though. He supposed she was right; he had sought out Damian Cray and tracked down Scorpia. No one had asked him to switch places with Paul ten days after his surgery. He had _wanted_ to work with his godfather.

Yet it wasn't quite like that, he mused as he walked back having dropped Sabina home. He had never told Jack that MI6 had threatened to deport her if he didn't comply after Ian's death. Or that he was blackmailed again to go to Point Blanc. Or, indeed, how much emotional blackmail had gone on during his time with Scorpia and since then. He was deeply appreciative of everything Jack had done for him, but she had always been on his side up until now. She no longer understood.

The hallway was dark as he let himself into his uncle's house in Chelsea, but light seeped out under the closed kitchen door. Alex let his eyes adjust to the dark as he removed his shoes and jacket. The hallway looked different, somehow – was it the darkness? Several large shapes stood by the stairs. His gaze moved to the hallway table. A bowl Jack had bought several years ago was missing.

Slowly, he moved forward and silently opened the kitchen door. Jack was standing with her back to him, her posture tense and her arms leaning heavily on the kitchen counter.

"Everything OK?" he asked. His voice had been quiet, but Jack jumped as though he'd shot her.

"Alex, will you – I've told you not to sneak up on me like that –" Jack's voice was on edge, and as she spun around to face him he saw her face was red and blotchy.

"I'll take that as a no," he said.

Jack didn't answer him straight away. Alex waited. He knew what was coming, but he wanted to hear her side; wanted her to explain.

It was several moments before Jack told him what he already knew. "I'm leaving, Alex. I'm sorry. I love you, but I can't – I can't keep seeing you coming back always hurt in one way or another. I thought how close you came to death outside the Bank would put you off. But it hasn't. I can see you're not going to stop. And I can't live with that. I can't be responsible for you."

"It's not like that," Alex said quietly. "I don't _like_ it…it just seems to keep happening."

"Al, I thought you were going to _die_ when you got shot. You're _fourteen._ All the nurses in the hospital kept looking at me like I was responsible – this poor kid was fighting for his life because I hadn't taken better care of him. They were right."

"Jack, there's nothing you could have done — "

"No, there's not," Jack snapped, her voice suddenly hard. "Because I no longer have any control over you, Alex. You're a law unto yourself. You don't listen to me. Every time you come back, your eyes get more and more serious. I don't even know if you can be a teenager anymore."

Alex flinched. Despite that he had been wondering the same thing himself, it was somehow worse when spoken aloud.

Jack saw and her expression softened. She took a few steps forward towards him, put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm going home to D.C. to be with my parents. I might be back in a few months – I just need to think. When I'm back – of course you can stay with me. But I have to go."

Alex only nodded.

"I leave tonight," she said. "I'm sorry it's so soon. I rang Mrs. Jones and they've found you a new guardian – she'll be round after I leave I expect. I hope this doesn't mean things get worse for you."

Alex unstuck his throat. "Don't worry about me," he muttered. "I'll be fine." Of course he wouldn't be. Jack was the only person who had looked out for him. Without her, he was left entirely in the hands of Alan Blunt. He had to stop himself from visibly shuddering.

Jack's taxi arrived forty minutes later. Alex helped carrying her bags to the taxi, and then she was standing in front of him, ready to say goodbye. He wasn't sure he was ready.

"I'll miss you, Al," she said, and drew him into a hug. "Just…take care, all right?" Alex heard her voice crack.

"I'll be fine," he said firmly. "I told you: don't worry. Mrs. Jones will sort something out." Sniffing and nodding slightly, Jack pulled away.

"Oi, lady, are you getting in the taxi or am I just taking your bags?" The driver – a short, frowning man whose eyebrows melted into one furry line across his forehead – was leaning against the taxi, arms folded.

"You'd better be going," Alex said.

"You don't seem that surprised at my sudden departure," she said, studying him closely.

Alex gave her a sad smile. "It's not sudden," he answered. "I saw the packed bags in your room a week ago."

* * *

**Several Hours Earlier**

It was Mrs. Jones who had taken the telephone call from Jack Starbright that morning. Like Alex, it had not come as a surprise to her. Miss Starbright had purchased the flight ticket to America the previous Friday. Only one seat had been booked. It was a one-way trip. She mused on this as she pulled the edges of another peppermint wrapper and placed the sweet in her mouth.

_Strange_, she mused, _how she left so suddenly. She lived in the UK for over a decade. _Still, Mrs. Jones didn't believe there was a more sinister motive behind the departure. The woman would never have left if she thought Alex was in any danger from an outside threat. She wasn't being blackmailed. She had just had enough.

Alan Blunt, too, thought the move was innocent, though unlike his deputy, accepted no responsibility for the way Jack Starbright felt. Mrs. Jones knew now that they had not only destroyed Alex's life. They were taking others down with him.

The problem of a guardian had been more difficult. There were very few options. Active agents were out of the question. Those at permanent desk jobs were…well. Mrs. Jones thought privately that most of them found their work so serious and monotonous that eventually they became their work. Few of them could handle Alex. Mrs. Jones considered herself an exception to this, but it would not have been wise if Alex came to live with her. Alan Blunt already thought she was soft about the boy. She couldn't help but worry about their final choice, however. As she waited for the unsuspecting guardian to come to her office, she thought back to how they had arrived at the decision.

_"It would be unreasonable, Alan, to send Alex to someone he doesn't know at all. He'd refuse. They would underestimate him. He needs someone who he's at least met," Mrs. Jones insisted, looking at the various personnel files spread out on the desk. "George Finley? He'd never cope with Alex."_

_Alan Blunt nodded slowly, though his expression didn't change. He moved the files around, until they were left with only those Alex knew._

"_John Crawley – well, I think that's out of the question," he muttered. "Alex would never trust him."_

_Mrs. Jones knew better than to think her superior had Alex's best interests at heart. No, Alan Blunt was interested in someone he thought he would be able to use in order to manipulate Alex. Privately, she agreed that it would be better if Alex had someone he could grow to be comfortable with, but for completely different reasons. _

"_Well, it's not going to be you or me," she said. "Obviously." Mrs. Jones didn't often laugh these days, but she was close at the thought of Alan Blunt been forced to take care of Alex Rider. She knew Alan had been married once and they had a child, but the child had died suddenly and he and his wife had divorced. Mrs. Jones had great respect for the Head of Special Operations – he had a brilliant mind – but she knew Alan no longer had the patience for a family. _

_There was also the small matter of Alex hating Alan Blunt. She was sure he had little warmth in his heart for her, either._

"_Obviously," Alan agreed dryly. _

"_What about Smithers?" Mrs. Jones picked up another file, reasonably bulky but not so much as those left on the table. "He's fond of Alex – I think Alex even has a sort of fondness for him."_

_Alan Blunt stared at her. Then, without a hint of humour in his voice, he said, "If we let Alex live with that man, Alex would be in no fit state to work for us. In a year he'd be at least four times the size he is now. Smithers also has a nasty habit of destroying his house regularly. I don't want the boy killed _between_ missions."_

_Sometimes Mrs. Jones thought Blunt was a very suitable name for her superior. _

"_Well, that leaves Agent Daniels and the rest of the unit he trained with at Brecon Beacons," she said. She knew Alex and K Unit had not exactly warmed to one another in training, but she thought Agent Daniels might be a possibility. He had taken a bullet for Alex._

_But Alan was adamant. Of course, Mrs. Jones had known before they'd even sat down that he would have made up his mind. And when that had happened, there was little she could do to change it._

Mrs. Jones was just finishing the peppermint as the man entered the room. Dark, muscular and solid, the man looked like SAS and had a face that looked incapable of smiling. She felt prickles of doubt again and wished it were Ben Daniels in front of her instead.

"Good afternoon," she said pleasantly.

"Is it?" The man didn't sit down. His whole posture was stiff and looked uncomfortable in the shirt he was wearing.

"Please, have a seat," Mrs. Jones said, ignoring his previous statement. She looked down at his file briefly as the soldier sat down, but didn't really need to read it; she knew what it said. He was silent, waiting for her to begin. It was what he had been trained to do.

Mrs. Jones cleared her throat and reached for another peppermint.

"We have…an unusual situation," she began. "I know you're very disappointed to have your leave extended again."

The man met her gaze but said nothing.

"We're still very concerned about K unit." She chose her words carefully. "What happened in Iraq was a disaster. It wasn't your fault. The problem is, we still don't know _whose_ fault it was."

"Someone's selling secrets," he snapped. It was a telltale sign that she was right to be worried. The man in front of her – known as Luke - had a quick temper, but he was trained to respect his superiors. Mrs. Jones rarely saw Luke angry. "And it's not – "

"It's not we think it's anyone in K unit," she jumped in quickly. "We're worried the unit isn't working as well as it did. Your last training session…well, frankly it was a mess. You're afraid for one another – you trust each other but you're not functioning as a team. You're not ready for active duty."

"You told me this two days ago. I got it then."

"This isn't about active duty. But we do need your help." Mrs. Jones leaned back in her chair as Luke raised an eyebrow. "We have…a teenager. He's quite high profile."

"You need us to protect him?"

Mrs. Jones inhaled deeply. "His guardian has left the country – we're not sure for how long. Alan Blunt has requested that he will stay with you for this period."

Luke shot up out of his seat. "You want me to _babysit?_ What is he – a diplomat's son or something? I can't spend my time looking after some spoilt teenager!"

"Why not?" Mrs. Jones demanded. "You are required, whilst off active duty, to complete inactive work for us. You have a desk job that you've made it very clear you dislike and that you find too easy. Here's your challenge."

The man just gaped at her, but she could see, behind the anger, the resignation in his eyes. He knew he had no choice.

"How long is it for?" he asked. He was still standing.

"An unspecified length of time. He's very self sufficient, I assure you. We've…ah…had a lot of contact with him. You just have to appear to be his guardian. For legal purposes. We can't have a fourteen year-old living by himself. Besides, as I said, he's high profile. Some nasty people would love to get their hands on him."

Luke met her gaze again. "You do realise Ben would be a far better choice for this?"

Mrs. Jones took that as an acceptance and ploughed on. "He'll be arriving late this evening. He can stay in your guest room, so space shouldn't be a problem."

"You really think K unit is going to work better as a team when I'll be too busy babysitting to spend time with them?" he asked her incredulously.

"Treat it as a team exercise," Mrs. Jones said with a pleasant smile, and showed him out of the door.

* * *

Alex had started packing before MI6 even arrived. He had managed to pack nearly half of all his stuff before the doorbell rang through the house. Sighing, and abandoning on the floor his schoolbooks that he had been in the process of stuffing into a rucksack, he went downstairs to open the door.

To his surprise, he was greeted with the smiling face of Ben Daniels.

He hadn't changed much in the three weeks since Alex had last seen him, other than he looked slightly thinner and his face was pale, as though he'd been ill. An understatement, perhaps, Alex thought. He knew what it was to be shot.

"Alex!" Ben said, and, surprising Alex further, gave him a warm hug. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. How're _you?"_ Alex asked pointedly. "Mrs. Jones said you wouldn't be out until Christmas."

"I made a faster recovery than expected. They sent me home with warnings that I was off active duty for as long as it took to heal properly."

Alex was glad. He'd felt bad about what had happened to Ben, felt responsible. "So you're here because…?"

"To help you pack. And then I'll take you over to your new guardian. Come on, let's make a start and I'll tell you about it."

Frowning, Alex shut the door behind Ben and led him upstairs to his room, which currently looked like it was in a warzone. Ben only grinned.

"Ah, you've started. I'll pack your books if you want." He sat down on the floor and began packing the abandoned textbooks into the bag, looking for all the world like he did this every day. Alex wondered if MI6 agents were often required to ferry teenagers from point A to point B.

"So who _am_ I going to live with?" Alex asked, opening his wardrobe and taking out his school uniform. "And what's happening to the house?"

"I don't think they know about the house just yet. Legally it and everything inside belongs to you. You don't know how long you'll be gone for, so if I were you I'd pack everything necessary that you'll want in the next couple of weeks, and then as you get more comfortable you can pop back and collect other things. As for whom you're living with…" Ben grinned suddenly. "You'll see."

"Someone I know, then?" Alex guessed.

"Perhaps. You know, I would have been happy to have you, but they didn't ask. Mrs. Jones did mention two spies unrelated in the same house might be dangerous. Probably thought we'd kill each other." He gave a lopsided grin and started to fold clothes into a suitcase.

Alex just stared at him. "You would have let me live with you? Seriously?"

Ben shrugged. "Why not? I live alone. Lots of room. I would trust you not to have too many wild parties."

Alex nodded numbly, surprised and touched Ben would do such a big thing for him without a moment's hesitation. He kept his head down and concentrated on stuffing in the last of his uniform.

"I…er…your new guardian, Alex. I've – well, you could say I've met him a few times, and he might be a little unwelcoming at first but –"

"Great," Alex muttered. "Another person who doesn't want me around."

"_But_," Ben emphasised, "give him a chance. He's been through some stuff lately. Maybe you can relate to that." Alex caught his gaze softening slightly.

Still, Alex was doubtful as they pulled up in front of a large house in the Kensington area. It looked like all those around it – large, beautiful and well-maintained.

"Don't get excited," Ben said, getting out of the BMW. "He doesn't own the whole house. Just the basement flat."

Between them they hauled Alex's belongings out of the car and down the steps leading to the basement flat. Alex had taken Ben's word for it that he could go back to his house in Chelsea and had packed only a large duffel bag and a rucksack. Ben rang the doorbell and they waited, staring at – to Alex – the ominous-looking black front door. He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot behind Ben.

The front door opened.

"Hi Fox," said a vaguely familiar voice, sounding tired.

Ben moved aside. Alex found himself looking at a hard, serious face, only made comical by the fact the man's mouth was hanging open.

"You!"

"Hello, Wolf," Alex said rather wearily, feeling nothing would surprise him now. "Small world, right?"

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey again guys, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed – I was overwhelmed by the positive response from you, so keep the reviews coming as they're very encouraging. I started university this week so it's all been a bit hectic and late tonight is the only time I've had to edit this, so I hope it's all right – let me know! Happy reading everyone, and I'll try to update again asap.

* * *

Chapter 2

"Shut your mouth, Wolf, you'll let the flies in," Ben said mildly, and Wolf snapped his mouth closed. The glare didn't move from his face, though his eyes kept moving accusingly from Alex to Ben and back again, apparently unsure whether he should blame Ben for bringing Alex there or Alex for having the nerve to show up.

"Well, I'll be off, then." Ben gave Alex a smile, but Alex could see he was nervous, hesitant. "Can you manage, Alex?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Alex said, but he felt anything but. _Who_ had decided to torture him like this? He swallowed. "See you around." He picked up the luggage. Wolf made no move to help him except to step aside so he could enter the hallway. As Alex stepped into the hallway, he caught a slight musty smell inside the flat.

"Be nice," he heard Ben whisper behind him. "He didn't ask for this."

"Goodbye, Fox," said Wolf firmly, and shut the door.

He turned to face Alex. They stood and stared at one another warily for several minutes, like animals about to fight.

Wolf looked older than when Alex had last seen him, though in reality it had only been seven months before, at Point Blanc. His hair, though still short, was longer and less closely cropped. He was unshaven. And his steely grey eyes – though eying Alex like he something nasty the cat had dragged in – betrayed an exhaustion Alex thought unique to himself.

"I…er…well, how are you?" Alex asked awkwardly.

"Been better." Wolf's voice was clipped. "What are you doing here?"

Alex would have thought that was obvious, but he bit his tongue, unwilling to provoke the temper he knew Wolf had. "I'm here to stay with you. Jack – my guardian – moved back to the U.S." He shrugged.

"What about other family? Couldn't they take you in?" Wolf's tone carried a vague accusatory note, but he sounded mainly curious. After all, Alex reflected, Wolf probably knew as little about him as he did about Wolf.

"Haven't got any," he said, watching with some satisfaction as Wolf's expression turned uncomfortable. _That'll teach you to ask too many questions._ "Looks like you're stuck with me."

The glare returned to Wolf's face. Alex sighed.

"Look, I don't want this any more than you do. I'd be happy to live by myself. But I can't. So if you just show me where I'll sleep, I'll get out of your way."

Wolf surveyed him for a few seconds before moving past him silently and leading him to where the hallway opened out a little. There was a door to the left, which he opened and led Alex into.

It was a reasonably average guest room, Alex thought, though not one he would have particularly associated with Wolf. The walls were painted a dark blue – by chance, Alex's favourite colour – and there was a single bed in one corner with a small bedside table next to it. There was a large pine desk under the window and a wardrobe but other than that, the room was empty. No pictures, no paintings, no books. Nothing that said anything about whose home he was in – completely devoid of personality.

On second thoughts, it suited Wolf perfectly.

Alex dropped his bags on the wooden floor, and had to stop himself from coughing at the dust that rose up.

"Yeah, sorry about that; don't have people to stay too often," Wolf muttered. "You can just...unpack or whatever. I'll be in the kitchen."

Alex watched him leave, and then bent down to inspect the floor, which, upon closer investigation, was covered in a thick layer of dust. The desk and the bedside table was the same. The bed was thankfully clean, but only, Alex suspected, because Wolf had been forced to make it up especially. He could well believe his new guardian didn't entertain often, but it was just an excuse. Alex had already glimpsed the state of the kitchen as they'd passed. Was Wolf just naturally a slob? Alex tried – and failed – to fit the state of the flat with the determined soldier he'd known at camp.

He left the room and followed Wolf into the kitchen. The man was sitting at the table, but he wasn't looking at his new ward, instead staring at the bottle he was holding in his right hand. Alex hesitated in the doorway, his gaze flicking around the room. Unwashed dishes in the sink. Bits of half-eaten and mouldy food everywhere. Empty bottles. Alex was surprised Wolf didn't have a pest problem. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a large cockroach suddenly ran down the wall and across the counter.

Oh wait, he did have a pest problem. Perfect.

"Do you, ah, want something to drink?" Wolf asked. "I've only got beer or water, but — "

"Water's fine," Alex said firmly. _So long as the water comes from an external source._ He took a seat at the table as Wolf put the glass down in front of him and then sat back down. There was another awkward silence.

"So why aren't you on active duty?" Alex eventually asked, searching desperately for something to talk about.

Wolf's face was closed. "We're on leave."

Alex guessed he must be referring to the rest of K unit. "How long for?"

"Don't know." Wolf's voice was hard and Alex suspected this wasn't a subject he was comfortable with. He watched Wolf take several gulps from his beer and set the bottle back down on the table. It occurred to Alex that he wouldn't have had Wolf down as a drinker; certainly Ian Rider had never touched alcohol in all the time Alex had known him. Silence hung in the air again, and Alex thought it best to change the subject.

"Thanks for the card, by the way," he said. At Wolf's blank expression: "You know, when I got –"

"Appendicitis," Wolf interrupted. He nodded, and Alex saw his face relax slightly at the change of topic. "It's all right. I'm surprised it reached you from Baghdad if I'm honest."

Alex stared at him for several seconds before remembering himself, nodding and attempting to look casual about it, all the while his thoughts racing. He had assumed that, whilst his school would have been informed he had suffered from appendicitis, MI6 would have trusted the SAS, at least, with the information he had been shot. Apparently not. Alex hesitated for a few seconds, and then decided to keep quiet. If MI6 had lied to K unit about his injury, there must have been a good reason. He forced himself to concentrate on what Wolf was saying.

"So how do you know Fox – er, Ben?"

Alex shrugged, still partly distracted. "I worked with him I guess. After he moved from the SAS."

Wolf looked incredulous, but his face darkened as Alex finished the last sentence. He said nothing.

"Did you get a replacement for Ben?" Alex wanted to know. "Or do you remain a three man unit? Sorry," he apologised. "I don't really know how these things work."

"Yeah, we got a replacement. Jackal. More like Jackass," Alex thought he heard Wolf mumble under his breath. Then he cleared his throat and his grey eyes bored into Alex. "Look, I don't know why they chose me to look after you – "

"That makes two of us."

"But," Wolf continued, glaring, "MI6 told me I just had to appear to be your guardian for legal purposes, and that's the way it's going to work. You and I have never been best buddies. I'll just give you the money they've given me for you and you can feed yourself. They told me you're self sufficient, so just stay out of my way and we'll be just fine. I'll provide the roof over your head, but other than that, Cub, you're on your own. Got it?"

"Got it, _Wolf_," Alex said coolly, biting back all manner of insults he could think of about the roof Wolf was providing.

"Good. I've got work tomorrow morning, so I'll probably be up before you. Like I said, I'll leave you some cash, and a key as well." Wolf stood up, and, without saying another word, left the room.

Alex sat alone, staring after him. Wolf had seemed _almost_ friendly when asking him how he knew Ben, but the man was just as unwelcoming as he had been at camp. Eight months had changed nothing.

But the fact remained that Wolf didn't know anything about Alex's run in with Scorpia, and also that he didn't like talking about the new team member, the fact he was on leave or Alex. Alex tried to process this in his mind, storing it away for examination later. _You're on your own. _

That suited Alex perfectly.

* * *

"Alex, find Scorpia, it is your destiny…"

"_I killed your parents, Alex…I'm sorry, I never wanted you to find out…"_

"_Blunt told me I would never be as good as your father…"_

"_Alex, your uncle's died in a car accident – "_

"_Ian Rider worked for MI6…"_

"_Scorpia never forgives. Scorpia never forgets…"_

Alex awoke abruptly, lying on his back and breathing hard. He raised one hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and noticed, with some fascination, that it was shaking.

He had told Ben he was fine after the last run in with Scorpia. And he was reasonably certain he _was _fine. He'd just been left with occasional nightmares and insomnia.

He sat up in bed, his gaze flickering rather confusedly around the room. Where _was_ he? Ah yes, that was right. Wolf's flat. Wolf, his new guardian. Looking at the clock he had unpacked, it read 3.01. It occurred to Alex that it was the same time it had been that night in late March, when the police had come to the house in Chelsea to inform them that Ian Rider had died. That was when all this had started.

Alex should have cut his losses and run before MI6 caught up with him.

Sighing, he moved his legs around and slowly got out of bed, absentmindedly rubbing his chest. It wasn't even that it hurt – more of a phantom ache, so that even when it wasn't there, he massaged it out of habit. As he passed the mirror on the way to the door, he caught sight of the bullet wound right about where his heart was. He hesitated, listening. The flat seemed silent, but Alex didn't want to risk Wolf waking up and asking questions. He pulled on a T-shirt and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. He didn't make it without interruption.

He wasn't certain he'd heard correctly the first time the sound reached his ears, and he turned slowly on the spot, cocking his head to one side. Then he heard it again, and his eyes moved to the bedroom door opposite his own. It was closed. Alex moved forward without a sound and stopped outside Wolf's door. Another low moan.

Quite apart from the fact Alex hadn't heard any visitors arrive, it didn't sound like a moan of pleasure to him, much as contemplating the thought revolted him. No, that sounded like a moan of distress. And then –

"_No, not Snake…"_

Alex moved backwards again, towards the kitchen. It really was none of his business.

Yet it seemed he wasn't the only one who suffered from nightmares.

* * *

Wolf woke up drenched in sweat with the sheets tangled tightly around his feet, and lay still for a second, panting, until he remembered the horrifying images again and threw himself out of bed, opening the door and stumbling to the bathroom.

He only just made it to the toilet in time. Then he was on his knees, holding onto it, while he threw up everything he had eaten that day. It seemed to go on forever, though he hadn't eaten since lunchtime, and eventually he was dry heaving, panting, gasping for air. He closed his eyes and flushed the toilet before the smell made him sick again. Wolf never had been good with vomit.

Slowly, he stood up and started running the tap. Splashing his face with cold water, he glanced up to look at the mirror.

It was only then he noticed a figure standing in the doorway. Wolf spun around.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

To his irritation, Cub shrugged and held out a full glass of water. "I heard you. Thought you might want some water."

Anger seized Wolf suddenly, blurring his vision so he could barely see. He seized the glass and threw it against the wall. It shattered with a loud crash. Shards of glass exploded in every direction. Wolf kept staring at Cub, but the boy didn't even flinch and, disturbingly, when he raised his eyes from the broken glass to Wolf, there was no fear there. No concern that he was in any danger. In fact, he reacted as though Wolf had just accepted the glass and he was waiting for him to say thank you. Wolf's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, closing the space between them.

"You didn't see anything," he snapped. "I was asleep all night."

Cub's face suddenly hardened. "Me too," he shot back, and walked away.

Wolf lowered himself into a seating position on the edge of the bath. The truth was that he was embarrassed someone had seen him like that. Wolf had managed to keep his nightmares a secret from everyone. Cub was there for six hours and discovered it. Wolf held his head in his hands. Maybe that was why Cub worked for Special Operations.

Furious as he still felt, Wolf let out a deep sigh, unclenched his fists and felt his mind wander to Cub's involvement with SO. He had thought it was a joke when at Brecon Beacons the Sergeant had first informed him Cub was 'with' Special Operations and that everything about him was classified. A fourteen year-old! With MI6! He still hadn't believed it even once Cub had been hurried away after ten days with no explanation.

No, Wolf hadn't believed it until he witnessed a boy snowboarding down a mountain on a makeshift board, dodging bullets and succeeding. It was Cub. And it was making it look so _normal_, so natural, like this was something he did everyday.

Wolf had hoped it wasn't.

He had assumed that had been it for Cub and MI6, but he wondered now. Any normal fourteen year-old would have been either angry or scared at witnessing a glass being smashed just inches away from him. At the very least they might have jumped or taken a step backwards. Cub may as well have just taken out a newspaper and started reading it for all the notice he took. _Why _hadn't he reacted?

"_I was asleep all night."_

"_Me too."_

Wolf wondered about that.

* * *

A/N: Remember to review, guys, it really does mean a lot to me!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Once again, I'm shocked by the positive response I've got from all of you, but it makes me very happy, so thank you very much. Thanks to those who wished me luck at university – I'm having a great time, thank you – and I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying it. 98 story alerts! Now if all of you just reviewed, you might find I updated even quicker :-p I have updated a bit faster this week, just as a thank you to everyone who's reviewed, so enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 3

Alex was already wide-awake when he heard the front door slam the next morning. He looked at his clock. Seven-thirty. He wasn't exactly sure where it was that Wolf had gone at that time – on a Saturday, no less – but it was irrelevant. All the better for him if Wolf had left early; he didn't want to imagine what mood the man would be in after last night. Alex went to bed afterwards kicking himself over why he'd let Wolf know he'd seen. He'd known it was a stupid thing to do. Perhaps his own nightmare had clouded his judgement.

He dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, before venturing into the kitchen. The flat was silent, empty. Wolf had definitely gone. He had, however, as promised, left money on the table for Alex - £100 – and a key too, but no note. Alex understood. Wolf was still angry, and wanted Alex to stay out of his way. Fine with him. He pocketed the key and the money. Now to see what he needed to use the money for.

Everything, as it turned out. The fridge was empty, save for some milk that had gone suspiciously lumpy and Alex refused to smell, a six-pack of beer and some vodka. Once again the alcohol left Alex perplexed. Was it just for parties? Or was it just the SAS were more casual about their health than MI6?

He did discover some bread on the side, but it was so hard Alex thought it could probably be used to knock someone out. The cupboards were empty – there were some plates, but definitely nothing to clean with or any food. What on earth did Wolf eat? He soon discovered the answer when he found the kitchen bin, which was full of takeaway tubs and fish and chip wrappings. Alex raised his eyebrows. For all the insane fitness he had seen displayed at Brecon Beacons, Wolf certainly led an unhealthy lifestyle.

And then there was the cockroach problem. Alex eyed one rather warily as it scuttled across the floor.

Just _how_ did Wolf live like this?

* * *

Hours on found Alex surrounded by cleaning equipment and the doorbell ringing. Abandoning the grime that seemed to have become engrained in the sink, he pulled off the gloves and went to answer it.

"Pest control?" a big man said with a grim expression. His partner was carrying a big black bag and was wearing the same expression – the sort of look one might have if they were about to diffuse a bomb.

Alex grinned. "If you'd just like to follow me…"

He left them to it in the kitchen, which thankfully he'd cleaned earlier (though it would probably need re-cleaning once the men were through), and returned to the dirt in the bathroom. He'd ventured out to the local supermarket and had subsequently spent fifty-five of the hundred pounds Wolf had left that morning. Yet now, at least, he had things to clean the flat with, and there was enough food for both of them for a few days. He had cleaned the pile of dishes in the sink, thrown away the empty bottles and got rid of the mouldy food. He had then set about disinfecting every surface in sight. Lord knew when it had been last cleaned. He had hoovered throughout the flat (except Wolf's room – with Wolf in a bad mood, he didn't want to anger him further and, after all, Alex was only cleaning because he couldn't stand living in such a state), polished his room, polished the sitting room and cleaned the windows. The bathroom was his last stop.

Alex hadn't known the simplest thing about cleaning before he started. There had always been various cleaners – and finally Jack – who took care of the house in Chelsea. Ian had insisted he learned how to cook, so he could take care of himself, but cleaning had sort of fallen by the wayside. Still, he'd picked up one of everything at the supermarket and followed the directions on the back. It must have worked, because even the dusty smell that lingered everywhere had gone.

He'd just about finished the bathroom, wiping the last of the dirt from the tiles, when one of the men appeared again, grinning.

"We're just about finished," he said, wiping his hands on his trousers. "You shouldn't have any more problems. Just keep the area clean."

"That's fantastic, thanks. How much do I owe you?"

It was cheap – just forty pounds – though Alex suspected they'd charged him a fraction of the price because he was so young and they felt sorry for him. He didn't care. He'd been vaguely concerned about how he was going to pay for it. He showed them out, and was just closing it when someone stuck their foot in, and there was a voice he recognised –

"Wolf?"

Alex opened the door fully, and, as he'd suspected, there was another member of K unit standing on the doorstep – a man he'd known as 'Snake' whilst at Brecon Beacons. Tall, fair and imposing, Alex might have been scared had he been anyone else, except that the man's face broke into a wide grin.

"Cub! How are you?" Snake seemed genuinely pleased to see him, though Alex was still wary. Snake, like the other members of K unit, had made Alex's life hell for the ten days of training he had spent with them.

"Fine, thanks. You?" He moved aside so Snake could enter. "Wolf's not here right now, but you're welcome to come in."

"Thanks," Snake said, stepping inside and moving past Alex into the kitchen. Alex noticed he didn't quite move easily – some of his movements were stiff, and he thought he saw the man limping slightly. He closed the door behind Snake and followed him. "So you're staying with Wolf or something?" Snake asked. "Since when?" It was a credit to his profession that Snake didn't seem at all perplexed by the situation.

"Last night," Alex told him as Snake lowered himself into a chair. Alex remained standing up, leaning against the cupboards. "My guardian had to go back to America."

"So _Wolf's _your new guardian?" Snake stared at him. "Wolf can't even take care of himself, let alone someone else. How did _he_ end up looking after you?"

"I don't know; it's not like I wanted him to," Alex said. "I don't think he did either."

"Yeah, well, that's just Wolf all over..." Snake broke eye contact with Alex and looked around the room, apparently noticing it for the first time. He looked back at Alex after a few seconds, surprise evident on his face. "Did Wolf actually _clean?_ Last time I was here, there were cockroaches and all sorts...What happened?"

"Pest control happened," Alex said, and Snake raised his eyebrows.

"Ahh, I see, _you_ cleaned up. I'm impressed; some of those plates have been sitting there for at least a month. I was starting to think Wolf was conducting some sort of experiment on them." His gaze wandered up to the ceiling. "I did suggest he cleaned up, but he got very defensive about it..."

"Is he _always_ like this?" Alex questioned. "Because I've been cleaning the best part of four and a half hours and I've only just finished." He wasn't sure he could face doing it every weekend.

Snake shrugged. "Well, yeah, he's always been a bit messy. But since...well, you know. He's been worse recently." Something in his expression darkened and he didn't elaborate.

Alex forced himself to look understanding, though he wondered whether it was better to go along with it and pretend he did know in the hope that Snake would explain, or to admit he knew nothing? _"He's been through some stuff lately,"_ Ben had said. Had he been talking about the same thing?

Snake seemed to sense something in his hesitation. "It's nothing," he said quickly. "Unimportant."

"But you're worried about him?" Alex pressed. He knew the answer already; could see it in Snake's eyes as he talked about his unit leader. It hadn't escaped Alex's notice, either, that Snake had failed to answer his question at the door about how he was. But that was obvious too – Snake was trying to hold a carefree smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes, and his face was drawn and tense.

"Are _you?_" Snake returned, and Alex smiled inwardly. Snake was good at deflecting questions; would make a good spy.

Alex decided to answer the question honestly. "I don't know, really; I've only met the man twice before – it's not like I really know him." He thought about telling Snake about the scene last night, wondering if Snake would tell him more if he did, but decided against it. He had to remind himself that he knew Snake even less well than he knew Wolf. Besides, he suspected the reason Wolf had been so angry the previous night was that he hadn't wanted anyone to know. "I did wonder about the lack of food in the house, though," he admitted. "And, you know, the beer and vodka. I thought the SAS were supposed to take care of themselves?"

Snake sighed heavily, but kept his eyes on Alex, who could see the man weighing him up. "We are," was all he eventually said. "We're on leave at the moment."

"Why?"

"You just…get a break occasionally," Snake answered, though it was clearly not the full story. Alex decided to let the subject drop as the soldier asked, "So do you know when Wolf will be back? I really needed to talk to him..."

Alex shrugged. "No idea. I don't even know where he is."

"I see." Snake let out a heavy sigh, but, almost as if he remembered himself, fixed the smile into place again and looked back at Alex. "So what have you been up to? I mean since we saw you trying to kill yourself down a mountain in France?"

Alex shrugged again.

"We were impressed, you know. I mean, we thought you were a bit of a waste of time at training – "

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Alex said coolly, and saw with some satisfaction that Snake looked awkward.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Cub," he said, his voice serious. "It's just – you have to see it from out perspective. We had to train really hard to get into the SAS. It's the toughest place to get in the army. And a teenager just drops in without any warning whatsoever and they tell us you're a 'special case'. I mean, we were angry." He looked apologetic. "I am sorry, though, because those moves you pulled with that snowboard in France were unreal. How did you end up there?"

"I er…" Alex trailed off. "It's classified."

Snake looked incredulous for a second, and then he shrugged. "They did tell us you were with Special Operations," he said. "I couldn't believe they were using a child. Though I guess if it was just a one-off…"

Alex remained silent.

"Heard your appendix got busted up, too," Snake continued, apparently oblivious to the number of false impressions he was under regarding Alex. "Bad luck. Would've signed the card, but Wolf sent it off before telling us about it."

"No problem," Alex said. Then, fearing the conversation was about to become awkward – "How's Eagle?"

"Eagle? Fine, fine – doing a stint with a medical team while we're on leave, I think. Said he wants to improve his first aid. He's got no first aid to improve upon." The last part was almost a mutter, but Alex still caught it. "He'll be glad to hear you're here, I should think. He was just speculating the other day what you'd been doing. So what _have_ you been up to?"

"I – er," Alex started, but suddenly he heard the sound of the front door opening, and he was saved from answering. The door slammed and they heard the sound of Wolf muttering underneath his breath as he came towards the kitchen.

"Why does it smell like lemon in here…?" Wolf stopped as his saw the two of them sitting at the table. "Hello, Snake."

"Hi Wolf," Snake returned, but then there was a silence, and Alex found himself looking between the two soldiers. Snake's eyes were on Wolf, but Wolf appeared to be looking everywhere but his comrade. It was Snake who broke the silence. "Alex here has finally done what we've been telling you to do for weeks – clean the place up so it doesn't look so much like a pigsty."

Wolf's eyebrows shot up, but his expression otherwise didn't change. "Great," he muttered.

"He even got rid of the cockroaches!" Snake continued cheerfully, though it sounded forced to Alex's ears. "This place is practically liveable now!"

Wolf just glared. Alex stood up straight.

"I've got to go to meet someone," he said, and left the room as quickly as he could without running. Nothing could persuade him to sit under Wolf's best death glare for any length of time. He stopped to pick up his jacket from his room, and made his way from the front door. It was hearing hushed tones that made him pause before he passed the kitchen.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?" Although he was whispering, Wolf still sounded livid. "I thought I made my feelings clear last time you were here."

"I was worried, Wolf," Snake said quietly. "Last time I saw you..."

"There's no need to worry."

"Cub's just had to do all that cleaning because you 're incapable of looking after yourself," Snake whispered furiously. "You have to pull yourself together!"

"I'm fine!"

Alex heard a snort. "Oh yeah, if you're so fine – if we're all so fine, why haven't they sent us back into training yet?"

"You're injured!"

"Not that injured. In fact, I'd be a lot less stiff if they got us back into training now. It's driving me mad, sitting round all the time. No, you _know_ why they haven't sent us back yet."

"I don't want to talk about it." Wolf's voice was firm. "I'm fine. This is a conversation the whole unit needs to have. And since Eagle's not speaking to me..."

There was a sigh from Snake. "He _would_ speak to you if you didn't argue with everything he says. If you won't listen..."

Alex had listened long enough – it would be just his luck for Wolf to come out and catch him eavesdropping. He hurried past the kitchen and let himself out.

* * *

Wolf groaned inwardly as he heard the front door slam after Cub. He didn't _enjoy_ having the kid around, but at least while he'd been there, Snake couldn't say too much. Now the other man had a free reign.

Yet Snake was just staring at him. It was making Wolf nervous.

"What?" he muttered eventually.

"How did _you_ end up taking care of Cub?" Snake said, shaking his head. "You were downright nasty to him at Brecon Beacons. You moaned like hell when you had to take him with us into that school in France. You don't like him. What's the deal?"

Wolf shrugged. "Special Operations," he said. "Law unto themselves. Anyway," he continued, feeling vaguely defensive. "It's not I don't like him. We have…an understanding."

"An understanding." Snake snorted. "By that you mean that you tell him to stay out of your way and he does."

Sometimes it was worrying how well Snake knew him. Wolf shifted uncomfortably. Snake looked exasperated.

"Wolf! He's what – sixteen?"

"Fourteen."

Snake looked momentarily shocked, but recovered. "Right, fourteen. You don't provide any food. Your house is a state. His guardian's just left him, and you tell him to _stay out of your way?_"

It did sound quite bad, put like that.

"I did send him a card, you know, when he got appendicitis," he protested. "He knows I like him!"

Snake raised one eyebrow – an art he had perfected with Wolf. "Yeah," he drawled. "That's why as soon as you came in, he went out. Understandable." He paused, and then sighed. "Look, Wolf, all I'm trying to say is that he might have come to training, and he might have done something for SO once, but he's only fourteen. There's something wrong when a teenager is here for twenty-four hours and suddenly he's the one taking care of you."

Wolf shot out of his seat. "He's not taking care of me!"

"Oh yeah? Take a look around. In fact, take a look in the fridge. I'll bet you a fiver he's stocked it for you."

Gritting his teeth and unable to believe it, Wolf moved towards the fridge, noting absently that it no longer had a thick layer of grime covering it. He opened it. And gaped. It was full of everyday items like milk (without the lumps), cheese, butter, a loaf of bread, what looked suspiciously like the makings of a salad, mince, steak…Things Wolf hadn't bought in weeks. Slowly he turned on the spot, closing the door behind him.

"I owe you a fiver," was all he said, and took his place at the table again, refusing to meet what he was sure was Snake's accusing gaze.

* * *

Alex felt exhausted as he made his way back to Wolf's flat later on. He'd arrived on Tom's doorstep without warning, and with no plan other than to put as much distance between himself and K unit as possible. Predictably, of course, Tom had welcomed him with open arms, but they'd been in his room all of ten minutes before the shouting between Tom's parents had started and Tom had begged Alex that they go somewhere else. They'd spent the best part of three hours playing football in the park before Tom reluctantly answered his constantly ringing mobile to his mother, going frantic about where he'd 'disappeared off to'. She'd calmed down long enough to ask Alex to dinner, but, even as his stomach growled, he'd politely declined. Between Jack's emigration, Wolf's temper and trying to keep track of what K unit seemed to know about him and what they _didn't_, he needed some time to himself; he wasn't sure he could sit through a dinner where food was more likely to end up to be hurled across the room than on his plate.

It was nearing nine-thirty when he let himself into Wolf's flat. He heard the television on and thought about telling Wolf he was back, and then decided against it. Wolf didn't want to know.

Apparently the man did, however, since as Alex made his way to his room, Wolf called out.

"Cub! Come in here a sec, would you?"

With some trepidation, Alex moved into the sitting room. Wolf used the remote to switch off the T.V.

"Sit down," he said. "Just for a minute."

Alex did as he was told, feeling puzzled. Wolf looked tense and awkward.

"I just wanted to apologise," he said. "Sorry you had to clean the flat and go shopping. I probably should have prepared for your coming more than I did. It was a surprise. I know I cut up rough."

Alex was surprised, but forced his face to remain impassive. "What about last night?" Alex asked, deciding to push it. The usual glare returned to Wolf's face, and he opened his mouth, but abruptly shut it again. To Alex's surprise, the anger seemed to melt away from Wolf's features, leaving him looking drained. The man stared down at his hands, and refused to meet Alex's gaze – the last thing he'd expected from someone like Wolf, usually so forthright and confident in his own opinion.

"You caught me off guard," Wolf finally said. "I got angry. Sorry, I – my head's a mess at the moment. I'm thinking about a lot of stuff, even when I go to sleep. I..." His voice trailed off, and he seemed to remember whom he was talking to. His head snapped up to look at Alex, searching him silently, as though expecting a judgement. Alex decided to give him a break.

"It's all right," he said. "I can relate to that." He stood up, wanting to leave before the situation became any more awkward than it already was.

Wolf was looking at him hard. "It's nothing," he said. "I don't need some sort of sympathy. This always happens when we're on leave. I miss the discipline and training."

Alex almost raised an eyebrow at how absurd this sounded, but forced it down, and instead glanced at his watch, almost desperate now to leave. "Sorry – I've got school in the morning. I need to get my stuff ready. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," Wolf got out as the boy left the room without waiting for a reply. It had nearly killed him to open himself up that much to Cub, but it was necessary. Otherwise, Snake told him, he just looked like a bastard.

Like Wolf cared.

He had to admit to himself, though, he did care a little bit what Cub thought of him, even if he didn't care very much for Snake's opinion on the subject. There was something in the way the boy had looked at him when he'd thrown that glass. His face had been impassive, but Wolf had seen the flash of pity in his eyes. He _knew_ he'd been suffering from a nightmare, Wolf was sure. That was why he'd been angry. He'd thought Cub was mocking him. Yet he'd just opened himself up wide to Cub, and there'd been nothing. No harsh comments, no telling him to 'get over it' (as one team member had told him) – in fact, no words at all on it, now Wolf thought about it, except for a seemingly neutral comment:

"_It's all right. I can relate to that."_

Wolf frowned, mulling it over. It was the last comment that bothered him. It wasn't that he thought Cub was just saying it to make him feel better – it was that he _wasn't_. He'd seen the understanding in Cub's eyes – true understanding. Cub knew _exactly_ what he was going through.

But how could he? Wolf's mind worked furiously over what he knew about Cub, and came up with virtually nothing. He knew the kid was fourteen, with no parents or guardian. He knew Cub was in good health and was strong enough to keep up with the demands of SAS training. He knew the kid had worked with Special Operations once in France, that he had the luck of the devil and that he'd worked with Fox after he'd left the SAS.

Wolf's frown deepened. Fox hadn't left the SAS until at least two months after the ambush on the French school, when Wolf had last seen Cub. So if Cub had worked with Fox since, it must mean that the incident in France hadn't been the last.

Wolf's eyes narrowed. Just what did Cub do for Special Operations anyway?

* * *

A/N: This has been edited at 3am after a particularly long day of essay writing, so I hope it's up to scratch. Remember to review everyone, and I'll try to update asap. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Again, everyone, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed – it's so fun reading everyone's responses to the story! Special mention in particular to Jen, who took the time to write quite a long review that was very complimentary, but I'm flattered by everyone's positive response so far. I've made an effort to try to get this chapter out quickly, because I'm not sure how much time I'll have in the next week, but it needed a lot of work, so I'm not sure how good it is. Hope you enjoy it anyway, and remember to review!

Chapter 4

It was now the third week running that Alex was attending school – the first time it had happened since his uncle died. He reflected on this as he made his way to school the following morning.

Things had been going surprisingly well so far. His friends had been delighted to see him when he'd got back, and people had even given up questioning him about his absences. Everyone agreed that Alex didn't look like a drug dealer. Some of them had actually invited Alex to go out with them that Friday. He'd caught up already in languages, Maths and IT, and he had organised tutoring with Mr. Grey to get him up to speed in his other subjects, and there was now a chance that Alex might actually pass his GCSEs the following year. It occurred to him, however, as he was sitting in his first class of the morning – French – that now he'd thought that, he'd probably be absent again before the week was out.

"_Alex, ou habite-tu?"_

Several heads in the class turned to look at Alex, half all secretly glad that they hadn't been picked on, and the other half almost certainly turning round to check that Alex was indeed still in school.

"_J'habite…"_Alex trailed off, thinking about what he could say about Wolf's flat. _"I live in Kensington in a flat,__"_ he said in French. "_There are two bedrooms, a bathroom, a lounge and a kitchen. I have lived there for two days," _he finished. Most of the class had been lost after 'I live in Kensington' and the rest after 'there are two bedrooms', but the teacher just raised her eyebrows at the last sentence.

"_Deux jours__?" _she questioned. _Two days?_

"_Oui,"_ Alex said firmly, and she let it drop.

Questions about this started at lunch.

"So what happened? Thought you lived with your guardian in Chelsea?"

It came from a boy Alex had been good friends with before Ian had died, but had inevitably drifted apart from in the last eight months. His name was Daniel Spencer – tall, black and almost handsome, he was popular in their year group, but without being the obnoxious type that almost inevitably goes hand-in-hand with popularity. When Alex had returned to school this time, despite their strained relations over the past few months, Daniel had seemed to make a renewed effort to speak to him; even said he'd missed him. Of course, Alex had just been grateful Daniel had still wanted to be friends, and had accepted his offer of friendship again immediately. He also suspected it had been Daniel who had stopped the rest of the year gossiping about him.

At his friend's question over his new housing arrangements, however, Alex could have kicked himself over what he had said in his French class. He'd done it without thinking, but now he realised it was just one more thing for people to gossip about – one more thing that made him stand out. Still, Daniel didn't seem to care much about Alex's answer as he sat down next to him and began shovelling food into his mouth.

Alex shrugged, picking at the vegetable quiche in front of him. "I..." Then, failing to come up with an adequate excuse, he decided there was no harm in telling the truth. "Jack decided to move back to America," he admitted. "I'm living with someone else now." He braced himself for the pity that was bound to come – the same sort of pity he'd received after Ian had died – but, thankfully, Daniel barely broke his eating to swallow.

"You should've said," his friend finally replied. "We're your friends, Alex; you don't need to push us away all the time."

Which, though designed to make Alex feel better, somehow left him feeling guilty. Once again he was confronted by how MI6 had invaded every area of his life; he wasn't even sure what he could tell Wolf, let alone this boy who had been his friend for years. He put down his fork, his appetite gone. Would he _ever _be allowed to feel normal again?

* * *

Wolf, meanwhile, was convinced that there was no one more _ab_normal than Cub, and had set off a mission. If he'd taken a moment to think about it, he might have found the thought quite ironic, his being in the Special Operations branch of MI6 and all. This wasn't a mission of the spying kind, however. No, this was a request – a demand – for information.

Mrs. Jones had been told to expect his arrival, so when he knocked and entered the office, she didn't look surprised. Then again, Wolf reflected as he sat down, it was probable very little shocked Mrs. Jones anymore.

"Hello, Wolf," she said pleasantly – the same tone she always used, as if she thought it would somehow placate him. "How are you?"

"Fine," Wolf said shortly, taking a seat without being asked.

"And how are you and Alex getting along?"

_His name's Alex?_ Wolf almost said, before biting his tongue and swallowing. Hard. "Fine," he said again. "Well, not fine exactly, but well enough. It was…Alex I wanted to discuss with you, actually."

"Oh?" Mrs. Jones did a good act of being surprised, but Wolf suspected she had already known. He wasn't exactly going to ask her _again_ to let his team go back to training.

"I want to read his file," Wolf said bluntly. "I know he's worked for you, and I want to know in what way, what's he's been up to." _What I'm dealing with_, was what he wanted to add.

Mrs. Jones gave him a rather tight smile as she unwrapped a peppermint. "I'm afraid that's classified information," she said. "Alex's file requires a high level of security clearance." She put the peppermint into her mouth, and Wolf found himself wishing she would choke on it. He wouldn't perform the necessary first aid, he decided.

"You expect me to take care of him without knowing anything about him?" he asked.

"Of course not." The deputy sounded as though they were discussing the weather. "What would you like to know? Though it would always be easier, you know, if you asked him yourself. He might be persuaded to tell you more than I can."

Wolf ignored this suggestion. The idea of Cub telling him anything was out of the question. "Whom did he live with before me?"

Mrs. Jones gave a slight nod, as though saying that this was a prudent question and one she was able to answer. "A young woman named Miss Starbright," she said. "His uncle's housekeeper. Alex actually lived with his uncle until he died in March."

"And his parents?"

"They died when Alex was just a few weeks old in tragic circumstances. Alex had lived with his uncle, Ian Rider, since then."

So Cub had never known his parents. Wolf suddenly felt sorry for him. His parents had been absolute disasters and were now both dead through a mixture of alcohol and drug abuse, but he couldn't imagine what it would have been like to never know them.

"When did he get involved with MI6?" he questioned, carefully.

"Around the same time you met him at Brecon Beacons. Just before, in fact."

"So you sent him to us to train him for a mission?"

"That's classified information," Mrs. Jones said firmly. "I'm not at liberty to discuss Alex's activities."

"But he was working for you when I saw him in France."

"Perhaps." Mrs. Jones was being deliberately vague even with information Wolf already knew. She had been there in France. She had told Wolf he was being held personally responsible for Cub.

"And he's worked for you since?"

"Classified."

"I know he worked with Ben Daniels. Was it when Ben was shot?"

Something flickered in Mrs. Jones' face, but barely. Her expression returned to remaining impassive. "I can't confirm that."

But her eyes had already betrayed her. Wolf now knew. Special Operations were using a fourteen year-old to do their dirty work. They would never admit it. But Wolf was certain it was true. He leaned forward.

"Is there anything you think I should know?" he asked, choosing not to push her further. Perhaps there was a way he could get hold of Cub's file later. "I don't know much about him."

Mrs. Jones looked thoughtful for a moment. "Never underestimate him," she said finally. "He wanted to get into an office on the sixteenth floor once, and he launched himself out of the window next door to do so. Think the impossible with Alex Rider."

Wolf had to stop himself betraying his shock. They were on the sixteenth floor now, and the idea of climbing out of the window…well, it was just absurd. He considered the possibility that Mrs. Jones was lying, but something in her expression told him she was telling the truth. Slowly, he stood up, aware he was going to get little else from the deputy.

He was halfway out the door, however, when Mrs. Jones spoke again.

"I can't confirm whether he's ever worked for us," she said. "But I will tell you that _if he did_ he'd be the most successful agent we've ever had."

Wolf waited until the door was closed behind him to allow himself to look suitably stunned.

* * *

It was past six by the time Alex made his way back to Kensington later that day. Night had already fallen, bringing a biting wind with it, and people hurried past Alex with their heads down and their collars pulled up. No one paid attention to one another.

Alex was, unusually, mulling over what he had learned at school that day – moreover, it didn't occur to him that this _was_ unusual, though it was strange for him to mull over something so normal. His tutoring session with Mr. Grey after school, however, had gone excellently. They had finished the last of Maths (Alex now knew his way easily around trigonometry and simultaneous equations) and Mr. Grey had pronounced himself impressed at Alex's grasp of international relations in the present day in their History session. He had even gone so far as to give Alex his coursework title and told him to have a first draft ready in two weeks. Alex's classmates had yet to start.

Yes, Alex's heart felt considerably lighter than it had at lunchtime as he let himself into Wolf's flat that evening. MI6 was leaving him alone. He was catching up at school. He had friends again – friends Alex was now determined he wasn't going to push away. Nothing could ruin his good mood.

"Wow, it really _is_ Cub."

Except that somehow Alex had forgotten he was living with an SAS unit leader and that the members of that unit were currently invading his life. Slowly, he turned on the spot to see that the man he knew as Eagle was leaning against the wall, arms folded, his gaze searching Alex.

"Hello, Eagle," Alex said warily. Wolf might have bared his soul the night before, Ben had turned out to be all right, and even Snake had been nice to him the previous day, but Alex couldn't quite forget how they had treated him the first time they had met.

"How's it going?" Eagle's manner was notably cooler than Snake's – or even Wolf's, for that matter – had been. Did he feel the same way about Alex as he had at camp? Alex shifted his weight uncomfortably under Eagle's watchful gaze.

"I'm fine," he said automatically, the standard answer for every enquiry regarding his well-being. He didn't return the question; he'd already assessed the man's features, and Eagle's face – usually pale anyway – had the same unnatural, drawn look about it as the others, and his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. They were all on leave, Alex remembered. So why did they all look as though they'd been fighting a war for weeks?

"I – sorry." Eagle ran a hand back through his dark hair, which was considerably longer than when Alex had last seen him. "Snake did tell me you were here; I'm just surprised. It's good to see you, though." His face broke into a rather weak smile, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders and neck, and his arms remained folded – a defensive stance, Alex remembered, from a PSHE lesson he'd had once. "Wolf's in the kitchen," he said. Alex took that as a hint, and followed the man through the doorway opposite. Wolf was sitting at the table, but he barely acknowledged either of them as they entered. "So what've you been up to?" Eagle was asking. He remained standing next to Alex – didn't yet sit down next to Wolf.

"I…er…" Alex trailed off. "I've been around," he finished lamely. Was it his imagination, or was Wolf watching him more closely than was considered normal? "What about you?" he asked, deflecting the attention from himself. "How was Iraq?"

Immediately he saw Eagle's face close, and Wolf all but flinched. Alex filed the information away for later.

"It was…challenging," Eagle said at last. "We're taking a break for a while."

In the space of two minutes, Eagle had told Alex more than Wolf had told him in two days. Something had happened in Iraq that meant they were now on leave. Alex knew what the situation was in Iraq, but he had no idea what the SAS's specific role would have been.

An uncomfortable silence hung in their air. To Alex's surprise, it was Wolf who broke it.

"Cub's been working with Fox," he said. Alex could have hit him. The last thing he wanted that evening was to answer a series of questions about the nature of his work. He'd had a good day. He didn't want it ruined now.

"With Fox? But Fox is…" Eagle trailed off, looking confused. Alex jumped up from his seat.

"Who wants dinner?" he said quickly. "I was thinking of cooking pasta?"

His confusion apparently forgotten, Eagle waved his hand. "I've already eaten," he said. "But go ahead. I'll leave soon anyway; I was just dropping by. Thought Snake would be here." His gaze deflected to Wolf briefly, and then he looked away again. Rather than try to analyse this strange interaction – or apparent lack thereof – Alex started to get out the pasta, mince and tins of chopped tomato he had bought the previous day. He was still uncomfortably aware of Wolf's intense gaze on him.

"_What?_" he felt like asking. "_Why are you watching me like I'm some sort of ticking bomb?"_

He had just added the tomatoes to the mince in the pan when the doorbell rang, and Wolf was (thankfully) called away to answer it. Alex heard the door close and Snake's low voice before the two of them entered the kitchen and wanted the floor to swallow him up. Three members of K unit at once – just what he'd always wanted.

Snake stopped in the doorway as he caught sight of Alex, apparently completely bemused.

"Wolf," he said slowly, "how did you land a kid that could not only clean and cook, but was also willing? You have the luck of the devil."

It was the way people often described Alex.

"Eagle," the man continued, nodding at his teammate. Eagle gave Snake the same weak smile he'd treated Alex to.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Wolf asked, directing the question at Snake.

"If that's all right..." Snake said slowly. "Eagle?"

Eagle glanced again at Wolf. "I was actually just leaving," he said. "I can call you later."

"Don't be ridiculous," Snake insisted. "I'm sure there's enough to go around – right, Cub?" Alex could only nod as Snake continued. "Anyway, when's the last time you actually ate properly? A month ago?"

Eagle's gaze deflected past Snake, to the wall, refusing to look at his teammate, but he did agree to stay for dinner. Wolf said nothing on the subject – something Alex found strange, considering it was his flat. The three of them sat mainly in silence, broken only by Snake's occasional strained small-talk until Alex served dinner in front of them. He took a seat rather apprehensively between Wolf and Eagle.

"So where's your fourth member?" he asked after a few moments, out of curiosity more than a desire to break the silence. "Wolf said it was someone called Jackal?"

"Yeah, that's his official name," Eagle muttered darkly. "I could have come up with a variety of more suitable – "

"Eagle!" Snake frowned at his team member, and then looked back at Alex. "Jackal's all right. A bit of a loose canon, but he works within the team and does his bit, so we can't complain. It could have been _much_ worse."

"Could it?" Eagle asked, but he was silenced with another sharp look from Snake.

Wolf remained quiet, but as he ate his pasta, Alex caught the man, once again, watching him intensely out of the corner of his eye. There was another uncomfortable silence, this time broken by Snake.

"So what _have_ you been up to since we last saw you?" he asked, directly the question at Alex. "School? Girls? Saving the world?" He winked at the last part.

Alex deliberately kept his face impassive, knowing Snake was only trying to keep the conversation light-hearted, and meant it as a joke. Truth was, he was sick of the same question over and over again. _What have you been up to, Cub? Well, guys, I've stopped bombs, nearly eaten by a great white shark, trained by Scorpia, been into space, shot at, nearly lost my eyes, met the man who killed my parents…where would you like me to start?_

"Cub?"

Alex jumped, realising he still hadn't answered. "Mainly school," he said. "You know how it is. GCSEs and all that." Was that disbelief he saw in Wolf's face?

Snake nodded, as though he understood, though of course he didn't. Silence reigned once again until they'd finished dinner and moved into the sitting room, and Eagle finally broke it.

"I miss Fox," he said quietly. "I'm jealous of you, Cub, you know, if you have worked with him recently. He's fantastic to work alongside."

Alex was caught off guard. "Yeah, he's brilliant," he said. "Best person I've met at MI6."

Eagle took little notice of this, apparently too absorbed in his thoughts, but both Wolf and Snake snapped their heads around to look at Alex.

"Just how many people have you met from MI6, Cub?" Snake said with a small laugh, though again, it sounded unnatural somehow.

Realising his mistake too late, Alex forced an embarrassed smile. "Not many, admittedly," he said. "Just Mrs. Jones and Ben." Snake seemed to accept this, but Wolf just stared at him.

Alex now felt unnerved. Just how much did Wolf know about him? Not wanting to look at the soldier anymore, Alex looked around the room. He'd been too busy cleaning the day before to really pay attention to specific items, but now he saw that there weren't many – there were few personal touches, save two photographs on the mantelpiece. Alex found this strange – more that Wolf would have any photographs displayed at all than anything else – but upon closer inspection, he saw that one was of Wolf himself, apparently receiving a medal of some sort. The other showed K unit – including Ben – at what looked suspiciously to be Brecon Beacons, though they looked not as Alex remembered them. This K unit was a group of friends having fun together. Snake had his arm around Ben's neck and was messing up his hair as Ben tried to push him away. Eagle stood slightly behind Wolf putting two fingers behind his head, which Wolf seemed to have noticed just as the photo had been taken, as he was turning around making strangling gestures. Alex's gaze flickered from the photograph to the men sat in front of him in silence. Something had definitely gone wrong somewhere.

Alex caught Wolf's eye. The man had seen him staring at the photograph. He looked…unnerved? Was that the word? _He's not the only one,_ Alex thought grimly. He was reasonably sure that, unless he got away from K unit, with apparently nothing else to talk about, the conversation would keep turning to him. And he had no desire for that to happen. Slowly, he stood up. Three pairs of eyes stared at him in silence.

"Sorry," he said. "I have homework to do." And, before anyone could protest, he escaped.

K unit watched him go but didn't speak until they heard his bedroom door close. It was Eagle who spoke first.

"I really don't think he picked up on the tension in the room, do you?" he said, his voice flat.

"So what if he did?" Snake shrugged. "The kid's not stupid."

Wolf alone felt unsettled by it. He'd seen Cub gazing at the photo of K unit that had been taken nearly eight months before. Wolf stared at it now. It had been a K unit he was proud to lead and happy to be a part of. He had believed that he was a leader they liked and admired. Looking at them now – Eagle's shoulders hunched over as he sat on the floor, Snake's face white and tense, and Fox absent, having left them for Special Operations – Wolf wondered if they could ever recapture that moment.

Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, refusing to think about it, he reached over for a gulp from his beer bottle, and prepared himself for a night of inevitably strained conversation and awkward silences with his unit.

* * *

A/N: Well, there you have it, guys. A bit of a sluggish, gap-filling chapter, but a necessary one. The next few chapters are a lot better. For those of you who don't know (probably everyone not from the British education system), PSHE stands for 'Personal, Social and Health Education' and is a (pointless) lesson in which you're supposed to learn how to be a good citizen and take care of yourself. Anyway, let me know what you think, and the next chapter will hopefully be out in the next week or so.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello again – chapter five is, somehow, ready before I thought it would be, despite my feeling awful (freshers' flu is indeed a wonderful thing) and my hideous pile of work that's calling for my attention. Thanks once again for the reviews, though please, guys, if you're enjoying the story, do review; it's quite disheartening to see the visitors' count hit its highest ever but to have a lower than normal number of reviews for the chapter.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter – I hope it's a bit better than the last!

* * *

Chapter 5

Alex was up and out of the house early the next morning – in fact, Wolf had still been in bed when he had left. Alex had wondered about waking him – didn't Wolf have work? – but Alex had no desire to wake the man. Wolf was bad tempered enough without being woken prematurely.

Nonetheless, it was nearly ten to nine when Alex finally reached Brooklands, having stopped at his uncle's house in Chelsea to pick up his bike and then ridden to school. He was sick of having to get the tube; besides it being expensive, he was beginning to feel sluggish and lazy from lack of exercise. He locked his bike to the gate outside school and then ran all the way to his form room, arriving just five minutes late.

"Ah, Alex, glad to see you're joining us this morning," Mr. McCarthy said dryly as Alex burst into the room, trying to pretend he was out of breath from running so hard. The form tutor, although intimidating, had always liked Alex, but even he had started to feel that Alex's long absences were simply unacceptable. He tried to look stern whilst hiding his relief that Alex had actually turned up. "You're late."

"Sorry, sir," Alex muttered, as he made his way towards Tom who told their form tutor cheerfully: "Ah well, better late than never, eh, sir?"

"Quite." Mr. McCarthy shuffled some papers on the desk as he waited for Alex to sit down. "Now, as I was saying, Parents' Evening will be next Monday from six-thirty p.m. until nine. This is an important evening, as you've now all started your GCSEs and your teachers need to report on your progress. It will be compulsory for all parents or guardians attend, even if," at this he gave Alex a pointed look, "the student isn't at school or able to attend as well. Your teachers will inform you the time of your appointments."

Alex had to hold in a groan as Mr. McCarthy started to give the school notices for the day. Parents' Evening? He tried to imagine Wolf's expression at being told that he was required to go to Alex's school to discuss his progress. Alex shuddered. This was not going be fun.

"Oh great," Tom was whispering next to him. "I can just imagine the arguments that this is going to cause between my parents. When they got my report at the end of last term, they started arguing over whose fault it was that I'm rubbish at Maths."

"Mmm," Alex said, still mulling over what he was going to tell Wolf. Having missed so much school already, there was certainly no chance his teachers would accept any excuse that his guardian wasn't able to attend. He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. One day he was saving the world from madmen. The next he was worrying over Parents' Evening. The irony was not wasted on Alex.

"Hey, so does this mean Wolf will have to come to Parents' Evening?" Tom looked positively gleeful at the thought.

"I guess so."

"Great!" Tom said happily. "You can introduce me!"

Alex tried, again, to imagine Wolf's reaction at being introduced to his school friends, and failed.

"Yeah, Tom," he said. "I'm sure Wolf would love to meet you…"

* * *

Wolf, however, was currently oblivious to any sort of responsibilities he might have regarding Alex and his schoolwork. He had purposefully stayed in bed until he heard his young ward (though it was difficult to think of Cub in that way) leave the house for school. The last few days he had left early in order to avoid Cub; it was now half past seven, so he had an hour, realistically, before he had to leave. It was plenty of time.

The first thing he did when he got up was to check that Cub had definitely left. Sure enough, his coat and shoes were gone and his schoolbag was nowhere to be seen. Wolf smiled grimly. It wouldn't do to get caught.

Slowly, almost as though afraid Cub was watching, though he knew that was silly, Wolf made his way to Cub's room and pushed the door open. He hadn't visited the spare room since Cub had moved in and wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. The room looked like it belonged to a normal teenager. It wasn't as messy as Wolf had kept his room as a teen, but Wolf had been expecting spotlessness after Cub had stripped the flat down of all dirt. However, books were piled up haphazardly on the desk (mainly schoolbooks, Wolf suspected, with titles such as _'York Notes Advanced: Hamlet' _and _'Chemistry and the Material World'_) and dirty clothes had been thrown onto a chair. The bed was made, but messily, as if Cub had been in a rush that morning. Something bothered Wolf about the room, though. He gazed around, trying to put his finger on it. Cub had unpacked, it was full of his belongings…but it wasn't _his_. There were no posters on the wall, no personal touches such as photographs. Wolf himself wasn't fond of such things, but he had expected Cub to make the room his own. This room could have belonged to anyone. Was that how Cub wanted it?

The first thing Wolf did was to look in all the cupboards and drawers. The wardrobe held a collection of shirts and what looked to be spare uniform. Wolf hadn't thought about school uniform – would he have to wash it? He couldn't exactly send Cub off to school looking a mess. Wolf gave himself a mental shake. He wasn't Cub's mother. Cub knew he wouldn't mollycoddle him. The boy could look after himself.

The drawers also yielded nothing suspicious, though Wolf wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Guns? Knives? He was still convinced, however, that there was something to be found – something that would tell him more about Cub. Wolf looked around the room, trying to think where he would hide something he wanted to keep secret. He knelt down, peering under the bed. It was clear, except for Cub's suitcase, which, credit to the boy, he had padlocked shut. Wolf pulled it out, inspecting the lock. It was a simple padlock with a key rather than a combination. Wolf smiled to himself and went off to find some paperclips and a screwdriver.

Being in the SAS had its uses, he thought, as he returned and began fiddling with the padlock. They had all undergone extensive training on covering one's tracks, and lock picking was an essential skill when one didn't want to leave a trace of intrusion; it opened a lock without destroying it. Wolf could help but feel pleased when he heard a click and the padlock popped open. He might have expected Cub to be a little more careful, but he probably hadn't expected anyone to actually try to get into the suitcase.

The suitcase, however, turned out to be a disappointment; it appeared empty save for a few folders that seemed to be school-related again. Wolf rocked back on his heels, sighing, and let the lid of the suitcase fall closed.

Something rattled.

Frowning, Wolf opened the suitcase again, and, unless it was his imagination, he heard the same rattling noise. Where was it coming from? His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a small zipped pocket, fitted to the inside of the suitcase's lid. He unzipped it, put his hand inside and felt his fingers close around something solid. He drew it out and found himself staring at a bottle of pills marked 'Lorcet'. Squinting at the label, he saw it read: 'Prescription-only. Mr. Alex Rider. Take 1-2 pills every 4-6 hours as needed. Please consult your doctor before discontinuing use of Lorcet if using for an extended period of time.'

Wolf frowned, chewing his lip. Without being a medic, he had little clue what Lorcet would be used for or why Cub would have them. Thankfully, he knew of someone who _would_ know.

"Eagle, it's Wolf," he said as soon as the other man picked up the phone.

"Oh. Hello, Wolf." Eagle's voice was clipped.

Wolf shifted his weight nervously, pressing the phone to his ear. "Er...how are you?"

"Fine. I'm actually just on my way to work, so..."

Wolf nearly gave up and let his team mate go – it wasn't like Eagle wanted to talk to him these days – but his fingers tightened around the pill bottle in his hand, and he swallowed hard. He hadn't come this far to let his problems with Eagle get in the way.

"Wait – I need to know everything you know about Lorcet," he said, and stopped, knowing that Eagle's curious nature wouldn't be able to resist.

"Okay...why?"

Wolf sighed. He'd wanted to avoid giving specific details, but after a moment's deliberation, he decided that there was no real harm in telling Eagle. It might even help, Wolf reasoned. "I…well. I was going through Cub's stuff and I found a bottle of pills marked Lorcet. They're prescribed. I wondered what they were for."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, but thankfully no comment on how Wolf had been searching through Cub's belongings. "That's really odd," Eagle said finally. "Lorcet wouldn't usually be prescribed to anyone under sixteen."

"What is it?"

"It's a form of Vicodin," Eagle said slowly. "It's a strong painkiller – as you've pointed out, prescription only, as there's a danger of addiction. They put Snake on Lorcet after…well, you know."

Wolf did know. "Why would Cub have them?"

"I'm not sure. What's the dosage?"

Wolf squinted again at the bottle. "It says ten milligrams slash six hundred and sixty milligrams. I'm guessing those are two different ingredients?"

"Yeah, and that's a high dosage. That sort of level is usually only for post-surgery pain – like, severe trauma." He paused. "But I'm pretty sure pain from having your appendix out wouldn't be that bad. I can't think why Cub would have them, particularly if they've been prescribed."

Wolf frowned, mulling it over, and suddenly caught sight of the clock. He swore. "I have to go, Eagle; I've got work too," he said. "Sorry to disturb you. Ring me if inspiration hits you."

"Yeah, I will. But I'm as much in the dark as you are," Eagle pointed out. "I'll...I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah, bye." Wolf put the phone down, pausing only briefly to wonder how long it had been since he and Eagle had engaged in such a civil conversation. He returned to Cub's room and, giving the pills a last suspicious look, returned them to their hiding place, padlocked the suitcase shut and shoved it under the bed. He felt distracted as he took the screwdriver away and closed Cub's door behind him – couldn't stop thinking about the pills as he stood in the shower. Of all the things he had expected to find, strong prescription painkillers hadn't been one of them. He was still frowning when he left the house. Cub was turning out to be more of a mystery than he'd thought.

Wolf didn't like it.

* * *

Alex was still mulling over how he was going to broach the subject of Parents' Evening with Wolf as he rode home from school that evening after another tutoring session with Mr. Grey. All his teachers thus far had given him an appointment and had said rather meaningfully that they were looking forward to meeting his guardian. It was clear Alex wasn't going to be able to wriggle out of this one. He imagined the conversation he would have with Wolf as he dismounted his bike outside Wolf's flat and fixed it to the railings.

_"So, Wolf, you know how you're responsible for me and all that? Well all my teachers want to discuss my 'progress' with you on Monday. I knew you'd look forward to it."_

Somehow Alex thought not.

Straightening up from his bike, he forced it from his mind. He'd talk about it with Wolf when the time was right.

Alex was about to make his way down the steps to the basement flat when, without quite knowing why, he stopped, surveying the cars. Something wasn't right. Was that black Mercedes always there? He stared hard at the car, parked right outside the flat, for a few seconds, before deciding it was empty and therefore probably harmless and continuing down to Wolf's flat.

"Cub's home!" It was Ben, rather than Wolf – or any other member of K unit, for that matter – who greeted Alex as he stepped into the hallway. He appeared from the door of the sitting room, giving Alex a smile, but it seemed strained, as though he were preoccupied.

"Cub!" Snake's voice sounded pleased as the man appeared next to Ben, but his body language said otherwise – he was shifting his weight nervously, and his arms were folded across his chest. "How was school?"

"For Christ's sake, Snake, he's not a kid." Alex couldn't see Wolf, but he heard his voice float in from the direction of the sitting room. Alex found himself wondering when Wolf had found the time to go to work that day, but then again, he thought, it was nearly six o'clock now. His tutoring session had continued until well past half past five.

"Right, right," Snake said distractedly as Alex dropped his bag on the floor and hung up his jacket. "There's...ah...someone for you to meet, Cub," he continued, and gestured towards the living room. Ben held Alex's gaze for a split second, and then dropped it, motioning for Alex to follow Snake into the sitting room. Curiously, Alex entered behind him.

The sitting room was fuller than he had seen it thus far. Wolf sat in the armchair, looking annoyed and vaguely preoccupied by something; Snake took a seat next to Eagle, who raised his hand in greeting. Sat next to them on the far side was a man Alex didn't recognise. His hair was jet black and his skin was dark, though not so dark as Wolf. He surveyed Alex coolly as they entered. Alex met his steely grey gaze.

"This is Jackal," Ben jumped in when no one said anything. "He's replaced me in K unit."

"After you defected," Eagle bit out, his tone resting somewhere between teasing and the edge of a sore point.

"All right, Eagle," Ben said mildly with an easy smile. "SO's not that bad. And you ended up with Jackal instead; it worked out quite well for you."

Jackal gave a curt nod, as though agreeing with this. His eyes never left Alex, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the other man's gaze.

"So this is the famous Cub," he said. His voice was low and Alex found his difficult to read either his expression or his tone of voice. "I can't say he looks anything like you, Wolf."

"Cub and I aren't related," Wolf said hurriedly. Jackal nodded again.

"You know, it's usually only those in the SAS that are granted a code name," he said, addressing his words at Alex again. "Almost like a badge of honour. You're only granted one if you've managed to reach training level." His voice was deadpan, but Alex – finally – thought he saw something flash in the man's eyes. Anger? Resentment?

"Well, it's lucky I did, then," Alex said, keeping his own voice even. He was unsure why – or even if – the man was trying to provoke him – was he seriously angry that Alex had been given a codename?

Jackal raised an eyebrow. "You're, what, sixteen?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen, right." Jackal didn't sneer, but his expression now told Alex everything. His tone remained polite, however. "Snake here's been telling me all about how he met you on training."

Alex didn't avert his gaze. "That's right," he said, equally calmly. "That's how I got the name 'Cub'."

Jackal gave him a strange smile, and turned to Snake. "It's certainly an amusing story, Snake," he said. "Can you imagine a teenager lasting ten minutes doing the training we do every day?"

"Actually I lasted ten days," Alex said pleasantly. "That's all I was sent there for. Quite easy, really," he continued, as Jackal fixed him with an intensive glare. "Why, did you find it rather difficult?"

"Now let me tell you…" Jackal stood up and took a step towards Alex. He must have been at least six foot three, Alex thought, and he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation. Jackal closed the gap so there was less than two feet between them.

"Jackal…" Snake said warningly, but he sounded worried. After all, it looked to all as though a very solid SAS soldier was trying to intimidate a fourteen year-old.

"Let me tell you," Jackal continued, ignoring Snake. "I worked hard to get into the SAS; don't make light of it. I don't know what joke you and Snake seem to have going on between you, but why would they let you train with the SAS? Look at you. I can't believe it."

"Never mind, eh?" Alex said. "I've got on perfectly well without your opinion up till now."

For a moment he thought he'd pushed Jackal too far – he was already anticipating a block – but the man's body suddenly relaxed as he stood up a little straighter and took a step backwards, surveying Alex coolly. Once again Alex felt uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

"You want to be careful, Cub," Jackal said. There was no bite to his tone, even as his voice fell on the last word. "You'll wind up some nasty people talking like that."

Alex said nothing, but refused to look away. The man's reaction seemed almost unnatural – he'd clearly been trying to provoke Alex, but refused to lose his temper with him. Did he believe Alex had trained with the SAS? It hardly mattered. He was looking at Alex in a way that suggested he knew more about Alex than he was letting on. Finally it was Jackal, rather than Alex, who dropped his gaze to look around at his team members.

"I'm leaving," he said. "Work to do. I'll see you around. It was...good meeting you...Cub."

Alex didn't let his guard down until he heard the front door slam, and he looked around the room. It was only then he realised that the other members of K unit were staring at him. Ben alone looked worried; Snake and Eagle looked vaguely uncomfortable. Wolf's expression was unreadable.

"Yes?" Alex said after a few minutes, a touch impatiently. Snake answered first.

"Sorry, I've just...Jackal usually has a really quick temper. I can't understand why he didn't lose it with you – I really thought he was going to."

Alex raised his eyebrows at this. "Well, I can't explain that," he said. "And I'm not sure what you've been saying to him, but he didn't seem very fond of me, even before I opened my mouth."

"He's…highly strung." Snake looked uncomfortable. "He wanted to know why we called you Cub, so I told him the truth – that you trained with us and you got given a codename. Jackal takes his work really seriously. He was quite offended that a fourteen year-old was given a codename, when, as he put it, 'you've not done anything to be rewarded'. Sorry. We should have known he wouldn't warm to you instantly."

"That's an understatement," Alex muttered, remembering Jackal's cool stare. He chanced a look at Wolf, who had thus far remained silent. He was still gazing at Alex with an expression Alex couldn't read.

"Seriously, why didn't he lose his temper, though?" Eagle said, the first time he had spoken since Alex had arrived. "I would have thought Cub would be his worst nightmare – he's not exactly the kid-friendly type, is he?"

Alex frowned, trying to understand why K unit seemed to be questioning why Jackal hadn't lashed out at him – had that been their plan?

"He is usually a git," Eagle insisted, directing his words at Ben. Slowly, Alex turned to look at Ben, processing this as Eagle continued: "I really thought Cub would wind him up – I've been trying to show you for ages what a jackass he is."

"Well, I – " Ben started, but Alex interrupted.

"So you invited him here because you thought he'd get angry with me?"

Eagle looked uncomfortable; Snake looked at Eagle with an expression that clearly said, 'I told you so'.

"Well not exactly," Eagle said at last. "It's just that..."

"Eagle's trying to persuade me to go back to the SAS," Ben said, picking up where Eagle had trailed off. "He thinks he'll achieve this by showing me that Jackal should really be called 'jackass'. It was nothing to do with you, really. Sorry." He offered Alex a weak smile, and Alex decided to drop it, though he still felt uneasy about K unit's newest member.

"Forget it," he said shortly. "I'm about to do dinner – is everyone staying?"

The five of them ate lasagne together, but it was another awkward meal in which Ben did most of the talking, answered occasionally by Snake or Alex. Eagle and Wolf sat in silence, both of them apparently concentrating on their food, though several times Alex caught the two of them staring at him. Was it anything to do with Jackal? Or was it something else? He picked at his lasagne for twenty minutes before announcing he had homework to do and escaped, glad to get away.

His mood worsened, however, as soon as he entered his room. Something was different. He looked around, trying to pinpoint it. A drawer he had left open was now closed. His alarm clock sat at a different angle. And something glinted up at him from the floor by the bed. Alex bent down, puzzled. Lying on floorboards were what looked to be two straightened out paperclips.

There was no doubt about it; someone had been in the room, through his belongings. And, if Alex wasn't mistaken, they'd had a good go at picking the padlock on his suitcase.

Back in the kitchen, Fox was washing the dishes while Eagle dried them and Wolf put them away. Snake was clearing the table. Wolf waited until he heard Alex's door click shut before he turned to Fox.

"So what's going on with Cub?" His voice was casual, but, as he'd suspected he would, Fox saw through it immediately.

"What do you mean, what's going on with him?" he returned, using a sponge to wipe down one of the plates.

"Well, you know. You worked with him."

"No, I don't know."

MI6 hadn't wanted Fox for nothing. Wolf almost growled in frustration.

"Well, he's worked for MI6 before," he said. "What's he done? What did you two do?"

"You know I can't tell you that." Fox's voice was quiet but he didn't stop scrubbing. Snake and Eagle were looking on with interest.

"I found Lorcet in his room this morning," Wolf said, keeping his voice low. Fox's head snapped up to look at him, and Wolf was unsettled to see he looked completely stumped.

"Lorcet? As in, the painkiller?"

"It's a really high dosage, too," Eagle continued, taking over. "We thought you'd know, Fox."

Fox frowned, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I've no idea," he said. "You can ask away about Alex, but I was never given his file to read; I only know what you do, and obviously details of when we worked together. I don't know why he'd have been prescribed Lorcet; no one ever mentioned he was on painkillers."

"Perhaps," a quiet voice said, "because it's really none of your business."

The four of them turned on the spot to see Cub standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. They hadn't even heard him leave his room. Wolf was the first to recover.

"I think it is."

Cub only raised one eyebrow, completely unfazed. "If it were, someone would have explained already, but they haven't. You could, of course, have just asked, but that would have meant coming clean about going through my stuff. Still, no worries; I have my secrets and you have yours. Besides, you told me I'm on my own, remember? So you really don't need to concern yourself with it."

And he disappeared before any of them had a chance to speak. Wolf refused to look at any of the others. He felt like screaming and hitting something. Snake was the first to speak.

"You told him he was _on his own_?"

* * *

A/N: Well, there we have the fifth chapter, rolling in at a little over 4200 words. I'd like to profess that I am not studying a degree in medicine and thus any talk of painkillers is out of ignorance – I have done a little research, but the dosage is mostly a guess, so any doctors out there, I apologise. I'm an arts student. Anyway, remember to review – I will endeavour to answer as many reviews as I can this time around, as some of you leave some very interesting ones, though no promises, as I'm sure you'd rather I updated with the next chapter asap!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Wow, guys, thank you so much for all the reviews you gave for the last chapter – I really love hearing what you all thought. I tried replying to as many as I could, but I didn't get around them all, and I thought you'd probably appreciate another chapter more than my reply. This chapter is extra long, though – I think exceeding 6,000 words – just as a special thank you. You might find reviewing lots encourages me to update the next chapter much quicker :)

* * *

Chapter 6

Alex refused to speak to Wolf for the next few days, and K unit were nowhere to be seen. Either Wolf had told them to keep their distance until things cooled off, or they had decided themselves that it was wise to lie low for a few days. On Friday morning, however, with Parents' Evening looming just a weekend away, Alex had to break his silence over breakfast.

"There's something important I have to talk to you about," he said, keeping his voice deliberately clipped. After all, he wasn't asking Wolf for a favour; he couldn't be blamed if his guardian _refused_ to attend.

"Like the fact you're on addictive painkillers?" Wolf said dryly, taking a sip of coffee. Apparently he harboured no remorse that he had broken into Alex's suitcase. Alex kept his face impassive and continued as though Wolf hadn't spoken.

"It's my Parents' Evening at school on Monday. You have to get a parent or guardian to attend; it's compulsory." Despite his anger, Alex had to suppress the urge to laugh; Wolf looked as though he'd just been informed he was about to storm Afghanistan single-handedly.

"You want _me_ to go to Parents' Evening…to discuss you?" he asked.

"No, they want to discuss Eagle," Alex said sarcastically. "And it's not I want you to come – the school does. I couldn't care less."

Wolf's eyes narrowed, and Alex thought for a moment he might actually refuse, before he slowly nodded. "It's only fair," he said. "I am supposed to be your legal guardian. This is the sort of thing MI6 wanted me to do."

Alex very much doubted MI6 cared at all about his schooling, but he kept his mouth shut. "Thanks."

Wolf seemed to hesitate for a second, as if he might say something else, but instead he drained the last of his coffee and stood up. "I'm off," he said. "I'll be in late."

"Me too." Wolf's head jerked up in surprise, and Alex hastily explained. "I mean, I'll be in after school, but I'm going out later with some friends."

Wolf waved his hand. "Whatever. See you later."

Alex sat playing with his cereal as Wolf left the flat, half annoyed he had been forced to break his wall of silence. He was still angry that Wolf had been through his belongings – more so because he'd actually found the painkillers Alex had been prescribed after being shot. The joke of it was that Alex had taken three at most since being in hospital, but he always kept them just in case. He wished he hadn't now.

On the other hand, it seemed to have sparked an argument between Wolf and the rest of K unit; Alex had heard them arguing in the kitchen after he'd left – apparently the others had not been impressed by Wolf's attempt at 'tough love'. The upshot was that none of them appeared to be speaking to Wolf so they'd left both him and Alex alone since.

The phone suddenly rang, jerking Alex out of his thoughts. Glancing at his watch, and thinking vaguely that time was getting on, he got up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Sharpe?" a man's voice asked.

_Mr. Sharpe? Is that Wolf?_ Alex picked up an envelope propped up on the hall table, studying it. It was addressed to 'Mr. Luke Sharpe', with Wolf's address underneath. Alex was surprised at himself for not wondering what Wolf's real name was before.

"Hello?" the speaker was saying. Alex forced himself to concentrate.

"Uh, no, this is…well, he's my legal guardian," he said. "Can I take a message?"

"This is Luke's psychiatrist," the speaker continued pleasantly. "Doctor Patterson. I haven't seen Luke in a few weeks; I was hoping to speak to him to check everything's all right. Could you ask him to give me a call?"

_Wolf's psychiatrist? _Alex kept his voice even as he answered."Yes, of course. Thank you." He hung up, trying to process this new information. He wasn't at all surprised that Wolf _needed_ a psychiatrist – that much was clear since Wolf was even stranger than the last times Alex had met him – but the idea of Wolf ever agreeing to attend one was almost laughable. Alex tried, and failed, to imagine Wolf talking about his feelings.

It was probably why Wolf hadn't attended in a while.

Alex chewed his lip, wondering if he should keep quiet about the phone call or pass on the message. If Wolf was supposed to go to therapy – and Alex was convinced that Wolf never would have gone unless the SAS had forced him to – it was important to tell him the therapist had phoned. On the other hand, Alex did _not_ want to witness Wolf's reaction.

In the end he scribbled out a note and stuck it to the fridge where Wolf was bound to see it. Alex would just make sure he was back very late that evening, preferably long after Wolf had gone to bed.

* * *

It was approximately ten o'clock that same morning when Snake sat down in his favourite armchair to drink a mug of coffee and the telephone rang. His immediate reaction was to swear – standing up and sitting down were still reasonably painful experiences – and then to set the coffee down and move to answer the phone. He was less than pleased when he found out who was on the other end.

"Snake, it's Wolf."

"Wolf." Snake's lips pursed, even though there was no one to see them. He hadn't spoken to Wolf for several days – in fact, since he had discovered precisely what Wolf's idea of 'parenting' was – and he still didn't feel inclined to do so. It wasn't that Snake didn't think Cub could take care of himself – the kid was taking better care Wolf than Wolf could of himself, even – but the situation wasn't right. The kid was on painkillers – addictive painkillers – for some reason or another. Something wasn't right. And Wolf had told him he was on his own. _Real supportive, there, Wolf_. Even if Wolf wasn't supposed to be acting as Cub's guardian, which he was, Cub was still an honorary member of the team. They were supposed to look out for one another.

"I...er...I'm sorry to bother you if you're busy."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Snake said, a slight bite to his voice. "It's not like I've got anything to do anyway at the moment, right? I'm supposed to sit and home and 'rest' some more."

There was a slight pause, and Snake immediately felt a flickering of guilt. It wasn't Wolf's fault they weren't allowed to go back to training yet – they were all to blame.

"Sorry," he said. "What is it?"

He heard Wolf clear his throat. "It's Cub."

"Cub?" Snake said sharply. If something had happened because Wolf was incompetent...

"He's...he said...oh Christ, Snake, I've got to attend his _Parents' Evening_ with him!"

Snake processed this for half a second before breaking down in laughter.

"Snake! It's not funny! I can't go to a _school_ – much less to discuss _Cub_ of all people..." There was a note of desperation to his leader's voice.

"Well, who do you want to discuss?" Snake asked reasonably, trying not to laugh again. "Eagle?"

"That's exactly what Cub said!" Wolf moaned.

"I see." Snake's gaze wandered up to the ceiling. "So he _is _talking to you now?" He knew Wolf wouldn't want to discuss his relationship with Cub, but he had to at some point – the man couldn't figure Cub out on his own.

Confirming Snake's suspicions, Wolf grunted. "Yeah, just about."

"He's not said anything about the painkillers?" Snake asked. "Nothing at all to indicate why he'd be on such strong medication?"

"No." Wolf sounded sullen, and Snake knew he was as curious as the rest of them were. In fact, Eagle had phoned Snake just the previous evening to discuss what _his _theories on the matter were – none of which were reassuring. They included addiction, abuse, theft...Eagle had a colourful variety of potential reasons. But none of them seemed to fit Cub.

"Well, have you tried _asking_ him, like he said?" Snake suggested.

"No, of course not," Wolf snapped. "He's barely speaking to me – and I can hardly come out and say, 'So, Cub, you know those painkillers I found when I was sneaking about in your room...' I don't have a clue why he's got them. He doesn't seem like the drug addict-type. But then, how much do we really know about him at all? Fox won't say a word." There was a silence as Wolf contemplated this. "Though, actually, asking him isn't such a bad idea..."

"There you go," Snake agreed. "You can just ask him, and – "

"No, _you_ can ask him," Wolf cut in. "He's more likely to talk to you! You can question him exactly what he'd been up to and what the painkillers are for – "

"_Or – _"

"Just go round there this afternoon! He'll be in about four o'clock, I won't be, and you can just sit and talk to him. Don't leave it too late, though – he said he's going out this evening."

"But – "

"Sorry, I have to go," Wolf continued. "Stacks of paperwork to do. Let me know how you get on with Cub."

The line went dead, and Snake stared dumbly at the handset for several long seconds. It had always astounded him the way Wolf was able to talk anyone into anything, and now he realised it was because no one else could get a word in edgeways. Slowly, he replaced the phone back on the hook.

It looked like Cub was going to be receiving a visit that afternoon.

* * *

Wolf was right, of course; Alex got in from school shortly after four o'clock – long before Wolf was due to get in. He planned to leave long before Wolf appeared, though – he had no desire to see Wolf's reaction to the fact Alex had spoken with Dr. Patterson. He dropped his keys onto the hallway table and removed his jacket, glad the week had finally ended. It had been a long day, but he was looking forward to going out with his friends that evening. The group were planning to go to the cinema, and they'd positively encouraged him to bring Sabina along.

He'd barely been back at the flat five minutes, however, when the doorbell rang. Rather wearily, Alex went to answer it, and was less than surprised to discover Snake on the doorstep. Did Wolf ever have any visitors other than members of his unit?

"Cub!" he said with a smile. "Can I come in?" As if Alex would refuse.

"How are you?" he questioned Alex as he followed him to the sitting room.

"Fine," Alex said, wondering what had prompted Snake's visit. He must have known Wolf wouldn't be around at four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Wolf tells me he has to attend your Parents' Evening on Monday. Thank you for that; it's the best laugh I've had in a long time. I would pay big money to see Wolf try to converse with teachers about you…" Snake grinned and Alex smiled weakly back, but he had a feeling he knew why Snake was there – why he had chosen this time in particular to come over. "At least you're talking to Wolf now," the soldier continued. "Fox said he was starting to get really wound up over it."

"Well, never mind," Alex muttered under his breath.

Snake looked serious again. "He didn't mean any harm, you know, going through your belongings like that. He just felt like he didn't know anything about you. He still feels like that. We all do, in a way." Snake paused. "I mean, all we really know about you is that you're tough enough to get through training with us and mad enough to throw yourself down a mountain and over a train on a makeshift snowboard. We know each other inside out – it's just…odd that we have this fifth member of the team we really know nothing about."

"So the others have nominated you to drill me?" Alex asked dryly.

Snake shifted uncomfortably, confirming Alex's suspicions.

"And I'm not really the fifth member of K unit. I was only with you for ten days."

"Yes, but I think we've always thought of you as our fifth member. I know Wolf certainly did once you'd left. And he was beside himself when we found you at the bottom of that mountain in France. He behaved just as though it was one of us."

Alex tried to fit that image with the one he had of Wolf's protests that Alex should accompany back into Point Blanc. Had it really been because he'd been _worried_ about Alex?

"I don't think Jackal would agree to my being the 'fifth member' of K unit somehow."

Snake shrugged. "He's a bit of a bastard, but he's a competent soldier."

"He doesn't seem to fit into the team the same way as B – Fox did."

"No, that's true." Snake seemed to contemplate this. "Fox was part of our original team, though. He completed all the initial training and the first few assignments with us. We just haven't had a chance to get used to Jackal yet. We trained with him for about two weeks and then went straight out to Baghdad."

Alex nodded, processing this. "So…it was tough in Iraq?" he asked. Snake let out a harsh laugh.

"Tough doesn't even touch it. It was a disaster from start to finish." He shook his head.

Alex knew he had to tread carefully – if Snake thought he was questioning him too much, he might not be so open. He changed angles. "Do you think it would have gone better if Fox had been there?"

Snake thought about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Maybe a little – maybe we would have come out of it better. Perhaps we'd be back in training by now."

"Why aren't you?" The question slipped out before Alex could stop it, but Snake seemed too absorbed in his thoughts to notice the bluntness of the question. A dead look came into his eyes.

"Listen, Cub," he said, "there're some really nasty people out there. And no matter how good your team is, they can still destroy it. They'll still give a good go at destroying _you_. It affects everyone. Even the strongest teams struggle with that." He jerked his head away, as if someone had slapped him. Alex watched him carefully, but the soldier stood up very abruptly. "I'd better leave you to it," he said. "Wolf said you were going out this evening?"

"Yeah, that's right." Alex somehow found his voice. He'd understood all at once what had happened in Iraq – not the exact details, perhaps, but he knew. He could hardly look at Snake as he saw him to the door, afraid the man would see the pity in his eyes.

Snake was silent as he stepped outside, but gave a small smile as he bid the boy farewell. It didn't bother him, talking about Iraq, but he didn't want to scare Cub.

He was halfway down the road before he realised he'd utterly failed in his mission to get Cub to talk about himself.

* * *

Alex arrived at Sabina's apartment at half past six, exactly half an hour before they were due to meet Alex's friends from school. He rang the doorbell and then waited, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to keep warm against the harsh winter wind. Snake's words kept echoing in his head, and he wished Sabina would hurry up. If anyone could take his mind off K unit, she could.

When the door eventually opened, however, it was Liz Pleasure, rather than her daughter, who stood in the doorway. Alex hadn't seen Sabina's mum since Sabina had been back, so it was rather a surprise to see her standing there. She looked...different, somehow, yet nothing had changed about her. Her eyes seemed brighter, and there was a kind of excited energy about her that Alex wasn't sure was entirely natural.

"Alex, dear, do come in. Sabina…well, you know. Getting ready, still!"

Was it his imagination, or were her words slightly slurred? Alex stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He followed Liz into the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked him. Alex was about to refuse when he realised she was waving a bottle of Bacardi at him – a bottle that was nearly empty, he noted.

"I'm okay, really," he said slowly, willing Sabina to appear. Instead, Edward, Sabina's father, entered the kitchen. His face lit up when he saw Alex.

"Hello Alex! How've you been keeping?" Alex had always liked Edward Pleasure – both of Sabina's parents actually, though he was slightly thrown by Liz's apparent love for Bacardi.

"Good, thanks. Yourself?" The last time Alex had heard of Edward Pleasure, he had been recovering from having their summer villa blown up. He could still see a faint scar down one side of Edward's face.

"Yes, yes, completely fine now. Sab shouldn't be long n – " He stopped very abruptly, staring at his wife and, more specifically, the bottle in her hand. "Liz," he said, very quietly, "have you been drinking again?"

"Don't patronise me, Edward." Liz unscrewed the bottle and then, to Alex's amazement, downed the last of the clear liquid.

"Liz, we talked about this." Edward seemed to have forgotten Alex's presence. Alex started to shift his weight rather nervously again, wondering if it would be inappropriate to go and find Sabina.

"No, Edward, _you_ talked about this and expected me to do as I was told. Well, I'm not going to."

"This isn't fair." Edward's voice was rising slightly. Alex had never heard him raise his voice before. "I know it's been difficult, Liz, but it's been difficult for everyone. You need to keep it together!"

"Well, I can't!" Liz snapped, and before Alex knew what was happening, the now empty bottle was flying past his head. It hit the wall behind him and shattered.

"We have a guest!" Edward's tone was almost pleading now. That did it. Alex ducked out of the kitchen as Liz started shouting again, and immediately ran into Sabina, who looked very pale.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I hoped she wasn't as bad tonight."

"It's fine," Alex told her. "Let's get out of here."

But Sabina seemed rooted to the spot as her parents' voices rose. Alex steered her gently towards the front door and then out of it.

"Seriously," he said, once they were outside, "it won't do you any good to stand there and listen."

Sabina looked at him for several seconds, and then buried her face in her hands. She wasn't crying, Alex noted with relief, but she took several deep breaths.

"I'm so embarrassed you had to see that," she said finally. "Was that a glass my mum threw?"

"A bottle. It's not a big deal. I'm sorry that's what you're dealing with at the moment."

Sabina looked up at him, chewing her lip. For one terrible moment, Alex thought she was going to burst into tears (he'd never been good with crying girls), but eventually she spoke. "It's really hard," she whispered. "I feel stupid saying that, because you've saved the world so many times, and a drunken woman is nothing really. But she's been like this for ages. That's why we're really here...Dad thought it would help. But it's really starting to get to me."

"Don't be silly." Alex took her hand and squeezed it – something he'd noted in the past that girls seemed to like – but his brain was working furiously. Liz Pleasure had a _drinking problem_? She'd seemed like one of the most stable people Alex had ever met. Then again, Wolf had never seemed like the type to enjoy alcohol, either. Was Wolf ever like Liz Pleasure? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he tried to give Sabina an encouraging smile. "It's understandable you'd be upset. Say what you want. You look really nice, by the way."

Sabina took another deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. "Let's go," she said. "I just want to forget about this for one evening."

The others were already waiting for them when they reached the Odeon in Leicester Square. Tom was there, of course, as well as Daniel, another boy – Craig – and a girl, Ellie, who had been close friends of Alex's before Ian had died. Alex felt rather nervous about the evening as they approached the group. His friends had seemed pleased enough to see him when he'd got back to school, but he was still uncertain of where exactly their friendships stood. Still, they all greeted him enthusiastically.

"You must be Sabina," Ellie said, smiling. "We've heard all about you."

"Oh, been talking about me, has he?" Sabina teased, though she looked pleased. It was all lies, of course – Alex hadn't told them anything about Sabina, other than she lived in America and he was sort of seeing her. He appreciated Ellie's words, all the same. She winked at him as Daniel suggested they went inside to get their tickets.

The film was long, and average as films go, but the six of them entertained themselves by throwing popcorn at the couples two rows in front. It was made all the more amusing by Sabina's insistence that she could get popcorn down one of the girl's tops and that, when she eventually did, it conveniently took a good ten minutes for the girl's boyfriend to find it. Alex felt completely at ease for the first time in months. He felt like a regular teenager out on a Friday night with his friends. It was a pity it didn't last for more than a few hours.

The group came out from the cinema still laughing.

"My God, did you see his face when the popcorn hit him on the head?"

"Nevermind that, what about when we threw the actual popcorn box? He had _no_ clue it was us!"

It was Tom who suggested that they grab something to eat, and somehow they all ended up in the Burger King down the road. Alex wasn't a great lover of fast food – Ian had once taken him through exactly what fast food chains used in their cooking – but he ordered a Coke and some ice cream and settled happily into the conversation.

"So, Alex, how did you end up getting a gorgeous girl like Sabina?" Daniel waggled his eyebrows at Sabina, who laughed.

"We met at Wimbledon," she said. "I was a ball girl and he was a ball boy. Then he came on holiday with me and I saved him from drowning."

Craig and Ellie simultaneously snorted at this, but Daniel didn't look entirely convinced.

"You were well enough to work at Wimbledon in the summer, but not to come to school, like, ever?" he asked.

Feeling this was getting into dangerous territory, Alex tried to shrug easily. "I wasn't ill then," he said. He saw Sabina chewing her lip and wished she'd stop.

Daniel wasn't giving it up. "You've really been ill all this time?" Alex sighed.

"Yes," he said. "I've really been ill all this time. Doctors said it was something to do with a lowered immune system after my uncle died."

"HIV?" Craig asked, sniggering, and taking all seriousness out of the conversation. "Doesn't that give you a lowered immune system?"

And that was the end of it. The next hour flew by, and Alex realised later – too late – that he'd been having so much fun he'd let his guard down. He hadn't noticed the car that had followed him first to the cinema and then to Burger King. He'd neglected to look around at the other people sitting in the restaurant, as he usually did, and hadn't noticed the three men that looked like they belonged only in a weight lifting competition sitting in the corner. He hadn't even noticed that they followed the group out when the six of them finally left, and bid one another farewell. Alex had promised to walk Sabina home and so they set off down the street together. It had started to snow and Sabina talked happily about all the fun she'd had as a child building snowmen. The two of them had just turned down a quiet street on their way to the tube station, however, when she suddenly stopped.

"I've left my scarf at Burger King!" she said. "I wondered why I was so cold!"

"Well, do you want me to run back and get it?" Alex offered, almost hopping up and down on the spot to keep warm.

"No, no, it's okay. Wait here; I won't be long."

It was only five minutes back to Burger King, so Alex agreed to stand and wait for her. Even as she disappeared around the corner, though, he regretted it. He was freezing and on reflection it would have been better to walk back with her rather than stand still. He pulled his collar up around his neck in an attempt to shield himself from the wind and the snow that was now coming down harder.

Though it was London on a Friday night, the street Alex stood on was a residential area, and completely silent save for the background noise of the main streets nearby. The houses around stood dark and quiet and the snow fell steadily around him.

When he saw movement near the end of the street, therefore, Alex automatically focused his attention on the figure that had appeared seemingly from nowhere and now stood, as Alex did, as though waiting for someone. Smoothly and silently, Alex took a step into the shadows, watching. He didn't know precisely why he was suspicious, but something wasn't quite right. It was past midnight. Why would anyone arrange a meeting at this time in a private residential street?

Sure enough, less than a minute later, another man appeared, dressed in a long dark coat and a scarf and hat that hid most of his face. Alex watched as the two men started talking – he was too far away to catch anything, but he could tell from their body language they were arguing and the first man was waving a piece of paper in the face of the man with the hat. He appeared much more panicked than the man who had just turned up, who was simply holding out his hand as though demanding what the first man held. Alex frowned, but couldn't risk moving closer to hear what was being said.

He watched as the man with the paper continued to gesture frantically whilst the other withdraw his hand and put his hand into his pocket – seemingly innocent other than the fact it was the inside pocket of his coat. Alex knew what was about to happen.

The man with the paper stood very still as soon as his companion produced the gun. He had stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of them and was pressing the weapon against the other man's abdomen. The first man's posture sagged, and, somewhat reluctantly it seemed, he handed over the all-important sheet of paper. Alex wondered briefly what it was, but he found himself unable to tear his attention from the scene. The gun was still held to the man's stomach, though its owner was surveying the piece of paper. Alex saw him nod, as though everything was in order.

Then he shot his companion.

There was no sound – muffled by a silencer – but the man stiffened and then crumbled into the snow. Immediately the shooter pocketed the gun, glanced around quickly, and then hurried across the road and around the corner.

Alex waited until he was out of sight before he moved from the shadows and followed in the same direction the man had disappeared to. Sabina would understand, when she couldn't find him, that something must have happened. She would go home and he would explain later.

The street that the man had turned onto was another residential road, though the houses were smaller and closer together. Alex saw him at the end of the road push open a gate and hurry down some steps to the cobbled street below. He followed, though at as slow a pace as he dared, not wanting to alert the man to his presence.

The next street was dark, lit by only one street lamp at the far end, which illuminated the man's light grey coat as he disappeared around the corner again. Alex moved through the darkness, following.

He didn't sense the movement from behind until it was almost too late, and even then, it still caught him on the side of the face as he stopped and tried to twist away. Had he not done so, the punch almost certainly would have knocked him out. He turned around to face his attacker, already in a defensive stance, and realised, with a sick feeling, that he was outnumbered three to one. And he realised – too late – that they'd been following him all evening.

The man to his left lashed out again – clumsily – and Alex blocked it easily. The kick from his right, however, caught him directly in the ribs and he couldn't help doubling up for a second.

"See," a soft voice said, "this is what happens when you meddle in things that aren't your business."

"I wasn't meddling," Alex got out through gritted teeth, and went on the offensive, kicking out at the man who had spoken. The man doubled up with a groan, but the other two men attacked at once. Alex blocked the kick from his right, but the other man got a punch to his back, and, as Alex turned to deal with him, he received another kick, and then punch, to his torso. He went down hard, gasping, feeling pain explode in his chest. Someone kicked him in the head, and then in the chest again, and Alex automatically curled up to protect himself.

"Poor little Rider," the same voice said, "no one around to protect him." Alex stayed silent as another kick landed in his stomach, but he curled up tighter. How did they know his name?

The pain in his chest was worsening – possibly because of another kick or because some serious damage had been done. Alex struggled to keep conscious, but the beating wasn't letting up. He let out a groan as he felt something very hard come into contact with his head. He was falling…down…down…down…

"I think he's passed out," one of Alex's attackers said as the blonde boy's eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. The man's name was Fidel Ashton and he had trained with the Cuban secret service for fifteen years. Broad shouldered and two hundred pounds of muscle, Ashton was a lethal killing machine. He didn't intend to kill the Rider boy, however – not yet anyway. He stopped kicking the boy and looked around for his employer.

"You don't think he's dead, do you?" One of his companions sounded worried.

"Of course he's not dead," Ashton scoffed. "He'd be dead if I'd wanted to kill him. But I didn't want to kill him."

His employer appeared at the end of the street at that moment. Almost as tall as Ashton and a similar build, he would have been able to do the job himself had he not been engaged in other matters. He reached the group in a few long strides.

"You did well," he said, cocking his head to one side as he surveyed the fourteen year-old lying in the snow. Ashton followed his gaze first to the boy's foetal position, then to the blood on the back of his head. "He's still alive?" he asked.

"Of course," Ashton said. "You wish for me to kill him?"

His employer bent down next to the boy, actually ran a finger down his face. "No," he said at last. "Not yet. There will be too many questions – it's too risky. Here is not the place to do it. He didn't see any faces – I'm sure of it – and he cannot have known what the meeting was about. Leave him here. He'll be found."

Privately Ashton thought it was more of a risk leaving the boy alive – he had certainly witnessed a man's murder – but, as a professional, he didn't question his superior. His employer straightened up and motioned for the three of them to follow him. Ashton took a last look at the prone figure lying on the ground. Not his best work, admittedly, but he had his doubts the boy would last much longer anyway if left out in the snow all night.

* * *

"Alex! Alex, please wake up. Alex…"

Pain. That was all Alex was immediately aware of. And a voice, calling to him. He could deal with that in a minute. The important thing was to assess his injuries. He wriggled his toes and found he could move them. When he tried moving his head, however, it felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. He groaned.

"Alex! Are you all right?" Alex forced his eyes open to see a hazy figure in front of him. He blinked once. Sabina's concerned face hovered in his line of vision.

"Mmm," he said rather vaguely. "I've been better, if I'm honest."

"What happened?"

Alex blinked again, his vision getting slightly better. He turned his head from side to side, looking around, and saw they were alone. The men had gone.

"I was attacked," he said. "I didn't know them. I was following someone, I…how did you find me?"

"Saw some footprints in the snow. And – oh Alex – a man's been shot, he's dead – "

"I know; I saw it." Alex's tongue felt thick. He squeezed his eyes shut again, and was disturbed to find he was shivering badly – his teeth had started to chatter.

"Al, do you want me to call an ambulance?" Sabina sounded worried, panicky. Alex forced his eyes open to look at her.

"_No_," he said firmly. "Just help me stand. I need to get home."

Sabina gave him a look that quite clearly conveyed that she thought he was crazy, but she supported him into a sitting position. At that point Alex's vision tilted and he thought he was about to pass out again, but he finally managed to stand, albeit swaying dangerously on the spot.

"Let's go," he said thickly. "I don't know how long I can keep upright."

Sabina actually had to support Alex as they walked – very slowly – to the tube station. He tried not to lean on her, but it was difficult; he could barely stand. When they finally boarded a tube on the Piccadilly line, he collapsed into a seat. He caught Sabina looking at him rather worriedly.

"Sab, I'm fine," he muttered. "I've had worse."

"That doesn't make me feel any better. You look like you might pass out at any moment."

Alex _felt_ like he was going to pass out at any moment. His chest was still aching horrifically. He knew there was no way it could have opened up again – the stitches were long gone – but he wondered if some serious damage could still be done. He hoped not.

"I thought you were dead," Sabina burst out after they had passed the second station. "There was blood on the snow…and you were all white and unresponsive…I had to call your name a dozen times…"

"Sorry," Alex said. What else could he say?

They got off at Gloucester Road, from where Alex insisted he could walk to Wolf's flat, despite Sabina's protests that they could catch another tube to the next station.

"No, s'okay." Alex was beginning to feel drunk – or, at least, how he imagined being drunk would feel like. "It's not far from here. Tube will take longer."

Still, it felt like an eternity as they made their way through the streets of Kensington. Every step Alex took, he swore his feet were getting heavier. At one point, he seriously considered just laying down on the pavement and going to sleep, but he forced himself on. He felt guilty that Sabina would have to go home by herself, but he was barely making it to the top of the steps leading down to Wolf's basement flat.

Oh dear. He'd forgotten about the steps.

How he made it down, Alex would never understand. All he knew was that he was suddenly down the bottom fumbling for his key while Sabina spoke soothingly to him, and then he was stumbling through the doorway, still supported by Sabina. He hoped to God Wolf had already gone to bed. It seemed, however, that Alex was out of luck that evening, as Wolf appeared out of the sitting room, looking incredibly pissed off.

"Just what do you mean by talking to Dr. Patterson?" was the first thing he said. Then he caught sight of Sabina. "And now you're just bringing girls back to my flat without my permission?"

"I…" Alex saw black holes start to appear in his vision, and his tongue felt thick. "There was…"

"He was attacked," he heard Sabina say, and then, without warning, the black holes exploded and there was blissfully no more.

* * *

A/N: And you were complaining about my cliffhangers before..._this_ is a cliffhanger, guys. Anyway, as I said before, I appreciate the reviews, so if you've just been lurking and reading the story but not reviewing, let me know what you think! I'll try not to leave you all waiting for the next chapter for too long!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: 199 reviews! I'm simply stunned – I still can't believe people are actually enjoying what I'm churning out. Huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed – sorry I didn't have the time to reply to them this week – but especially to Chou, who wrote me a long and very lovely review; it was very much appreciated.

This week has been ridiculously busy for me, but I've done my best to get a chapter out – I'm sorry if it's a bit scruffy in places, but hopefully it'll live up to expectations.

* * *

Chapter 7

Wolf honestly hadn't expected Cub to just collapse like that, so the boy hit the floor before anyone caught him, and lay there, looking, Wolf now thought uncomfortably, horribly white. He hadn't noticed when Cub had come in; he'd seemed normal. A bit unsteady perhaps, but Wolf had assumed he'd been drinking. As he bent down over Cub, he remembered with a sick feeling that the kid was only fourteen, and probably the most well behaved teenager he'd ever heard of.

"Is he all right?"

Wolf had forgotten about the girl that had come home with Cub, but he didn't look at her as he checked for Cub's pulse. A little fast and uneven, but good enough. He was breathing. He was just out cold.

"What exactly happened?" he rapped out, now checking for a head injury.

"I told you; he was attacked. I don't know exactly what happened. I followed the footprints in the snow and found him unconscious."

"And you didn't think to call an ambulance?" Wolf snapped. He frowned as he felt wet on the back of Cub's head, and drew his hand away to find red on his palm.

"I – "

"Did he seem concussed to you?" he interrupted, rocking back on his heels.

The girl thought for a moment. "I don't know. Like I said, he was unconscious. It was difficult to tell exactly why."

"Right." Wolf massaged the bridge between his eyes. "Er…look, I need to sort him out. Can you get home all right?"

The girl nodded, looking as though she might be in shock herself. Wolf briefly considered letting her stay, but dismissed the thought immediately. She was only a kid – her parents would be worried, and he needed to concentrate on Cub.

As she disappeared out of the front door, letting it close softly behind her, Wolf braced himself and picked Cub up off the floor. He was lighter than he was expecting, and he had to remind himself that Cub was still young – he wasn't the size of Wolf's other teammates. Wolf placed the boy on the sofa, and went off to get a bowl of water and some cleaning pads. He wasn't a medic, but they were all trained first aiders, and he managed to clean Cub's head well enough. It was a shallower graze than Wolf had originally thought. It was unlikely that Cub's unconsciousness had been caused by that. Wolf frowned, wondering if he should perhaps call Eagle for advice – or perhaps even an ambulance, as he'd originally thought. Cub was clearly not in a good way.

He had just finished cleaning the graze – and a nasty cut on Cub's face – when the boy's eyes suddenly fluttered open. He squinted up at Wolf, who was slightly perturbed by the crushing sense of relief he felt.

"Wolf?" Cub said, his voice hoarse. Then, to Wolf's amazement, he pushed himself into a sitting position, though he winced.

"Where does it hurt?" Wolf said, his voice sharper than he'd intended, taken aback by Cub's quick recovery.

"I just got attacked. I ache everywhere." Cub's tone was dry, but he stood up, slowly. Wolf saw him sway, but he stayed upright. His whole posture was rigid, though, as if he was in pain, and he was shivering, despite the heating turned up full in the house.

"Sit down, would you? What happened?"

Cub shrugged, which annoyed Wolf more than anything. "I just told you. I was attacked. I didn't know the men." He didn't sit down, but he was still swaying. Wolf had to admire the kid; he was certainly tough. "I'm going to bed," Cub said abruptly.

Wolf jumped up. "Is that really such a good idea?" he said. "You just passed out. What if you slip into unconsciousness while you're sleeping?"

Cub was silent, and for a moment Wolf actually thought he might agree with him and sit down. If Wolf really was honest, Cub actually looked like he was in need of proper medical care – or at least be checked over. But Cub met his gaze – however unfocused – and spoke softly.

"I'll be fine."

Wolf just stared after Cub as the boy almost staggered out of the room. He'd just been attacked, and now he was just going to bed without talking about it? Wolf frowned. Cub hadn't known the men – if it really was just a random attack, he supposed the kid might be embarrassed and not _want_ to talk about it.

Wolf mulled this thought over. So rarely was anything random where Cub was concerned.

* * *

Wolf stared longer and harder when Cub appeared early the next morning, moving easily and appearing for all the world as though nothing had happened the previous evening. The only signs were the cut on his face and dark bruising that was already starting to show.

"You're up early," Wolf commented. It was a Saturday morning and, moreover, he'd expected Cub to be feeling the effects of his beating – he hadn't expected the kid to be up until at least eleven. In fact, he'd wondered if Cub was going to get up at all. He'd checked on the kid every hour throughout the night, ensuring he was still breathing and had a pulse. He'd avoided waking Cub up, despite the risk of concussion. Somehow he couldn't admit to himself – let alone Cub – that he was genuinely concerned for the boy.

"I've got football practice," Cub said, peering over the toaster as he waited for the bread to finish toasting.

Wolf kept his face impassive, but his mind was racing. _Football practice? He just took a beating last night!_ He said nothing as Cub grabbed the toast and headed out of the door.

"I'll be back around lunchtime," he called, leaving Wolf, once again, staring after him. He'd never seen anything like it.

The rest of the weekend flew by for Alex. Snake, Eagle and even Ben dropped in at various times, all making various exclamations at the bruises that had developed on Alex's face. Alex just shrugged when they questioned him about it. Ben alone seemed unconvinced by his explanation.

"_You_ allowed yourself to be beaten up by three men?" he asked incredulously when Alex told him. "This is the boy who survived a waterfall in a kayak _and_ won a Thai boxing match, and yet allowed himself to be the target of a random beating?"

"I didn't _allow_ myself to be beaten up," Alex said, annoyed. "They were about twice the size of me. I didn't have much of a chance."

"But you must have known them," Eagle insisted, when he was informed. "I mean, they didn't mug you or anything, did they?"

Alex had only shrugged again and repeated that he didn't know who it was and it was entirely possible they had been random drunks.

He didn't mention they had followed him all evening, or anything about the murder he had witnessed. Had he been anyone else, he might have been straight onto the police. Yet something was bothering him about the whole affair. It hadn't been an unplanned murder; the victim had handed over some sort of paper – something of importance. Alex wanted to know what that was. What made it all the stranger was that nothing of the man's death had appeared in the local news. Someone was blocking the report, which made him wonder…

Wolf had largely left him alone. They ate together in uncomfortable silence, but mainly avoided one another. Alex had been distracted by the events of Friday evening, but on Sunday he was sharply reminded of what Snake had told him about Iraq when he caught Wolf pouring his fourth whiskey and Coke of the evening.

"Did you ring Dr. Patterson back?" Alex asked, rather casually. Wolf had said nothing, but he stormed over to the sink and poured the drink away. Yet when Alex checked the next day, an extra bottle had been added to the cupboard.

* * *

Alex was home by four o'clock on Monday afternoon, and spent the next hour trying to complete his homework, as if it would somehow improve the comments that his teachers would undoubtedly make that evening. He couldn't stop getting distracted, though, and eventually he rang Sabina.

"Alex!" she exclaimed when she heard his voice. "Thank goodness! I was starting to think…well, never mind. Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Alex swallowed. He was feeling much better now. On Saturday morning, he'd had to take his painkillers before he could persuade his body to get out of bed. They'd worked fantastically, though, and that morning he hadn't needed to take any at all. It seemed there was no lasting damage.

"So do you want to go out tonight?" Sabina was asking. Alex was grateful she hadn't pushed the matter of Friday night.

"I can't. Sorry. Parents' Evening."

Upon hearing that Wolf was attending Parents' Evening that night, Sabina started laughing. It didn't make Alex feel any better.

He distracted himself briefly by preparing dinner, but once that was on, and he sat down at the table to wait for Wolf, he found his mind wandering over to K unit. He'd considered telling Wolf exactly what had happened on Friday night – the man was clearly very curious – but he'd dismissed it on Saturday afternoon when Eagle had appeared, and he had overheard an argument between he and Wolf over their training. K unit had enough problems in itself without worrying about his too.

Wolf came in at six o'clock, slamming the door behind him and clearly in a bad mood. He grunted his thanks as he sat down at the kitchen table and Alex put the stir-fry in front of him. There was a nasty scraping sound as he stabbed the meat with his fork.

"Is everything all right?" Alex ventured after a few moments of watching Wolf angrily attack his food.

"I hate desk work," Wolf muttered. He jerked his head up to look at Alex and his eyes had that same dead look that Alex had seen in Snake's the previous Friday. "The heads said we can't go back into the field until the beginning of January, at the earliest. And that's only if we 'get our act together'." Another scrape as a vegetable fell victim to Wolf's vicious fork stabs.

"Don't they think you've got over Iraq?" Alex said carefully, aware that the wrong words would only infuriate Wolf further.

Wolf was silent for a few moments as he finished his food. Finally he put his fork down. He hadn't bothered with the knife Alex had provided. "I went back to Dr. Patterson today," he said. "I have to go back tomorrow to make up for the sessions I missed. He says I need something else to focus on before I'll be 'fully psychologically recovered'. What bullshit. I spoke to Snake and he said his therapist said the same thing." Wolf shook his head. "If they'd let us go back into training, we would have something to focus on!"

Alex tried to hide his surprise at Wolf's sudden openness, though it sounded as though Wolf had just had a bad day and needed to vent. Perhaps he'd even forgotten how much he disliked Alex in his frustration. "Maybe they mean you need something completely unrelated," he suggested at last.

Wolf shrugged. "It's just pissing me off now. I'm not sure how much more form-filling I can take." He looked at his watch. "Hadn't we better get going soon?"

To Alex's amusement, despite his nervousness about the impending evening, Wolf actually put on a suit to go to Brooklands. He emerged from his room, looking slightly uncomfortable in a blue shirt that was too tight around the neck and a charcoal suit that looked as though it had been specially made for broad SAS shoulders. Alex too had changed, but into a decidedly more casual look of jeans and a T-shirt. He threw his jacket on over the top.

"Let's…er…well, we'd better go," Wolf said.

They drove to Brooklands in silence. Alex felt tense and nervous. Wolf seemed in better humour, but still said nothing. Wolf found the school car park and pulled into a space next to the Headmaster's car.

"Let's get this over with, then," Alex said, and they got out of the car.

Their first appointment was with Mrs. McDonald, Alex's Spanish teacher, but they were early and had to wait. Alex ticked off his name on the board outside the hall to confirm he was there while Wolf shifted his weight from left foot to right, waiting for Mrs. McDonald to finish talking to Ellie's parents.

"All in all, Ellie, it would help if you remembered even the _basics _of the Spanish language…" Mrs. McDonald said sternly as they stood up to leave. Ellie caught Alex's eye and wriggled her eyebrows, but then her parents were steering her towards their Chemistry teacher and Alex and Wolf found that they were next.

Mrs. McDonald's tired face brightened immediately when she saw Alex. They had always got along well, but it didn't stop Alex feeling apprehensive as Mrs. McDonald looked down at her notes.

"You must be…Mr. Jack Starbright?" she asked hesitantly, offering her hand to Wolf.

"Luke Sharpe," he grunted, as though it were some sort of state secret he didn't like revealing.

"Oh…I've got Alex's guardian down as somebody different here…" Mrs. McDonald looked confused.

"Jack moved back to America," Alex explained. "I'm living with W…er, Luke now."

Mrs. McDonald nodded in understanding. "We'll have to update the school records," she said. "Please have a seat."

They sat down as she shuffled through her notes. Wolf kept shifting awkwardly in the stiff plastic chairs. Mrs. McDonald finally looked up.

"Now," she started, "I'm not quite sure what to say about Alex. He has, of course, had some time off with ill health…"

Wolf nodded, apparently attributing this apparent absence to Alex's bout of appendicitis.

"I have to say, with the amount of work he's missed, I might have been worried," Mrs. McDonald continued. Then she smiled at Alex. "But, as I'm sure you know, Alex's Spanish is absolutely fluent. Barely even a trace of an accent!"

Alex chanced a look at his guardian, who just raised an eyebrow.

"I fully expect Alex to achieve the top grade in his GCSE next year. Just make sure you keep on top of homework, Alex. Your Spanish is perfect, but you need to know what the examiners are expecting of you." Mrs. McDonald stood up, signifying the conversation was over. Wolf had said nothing, but he thanked Mrs. McDonald, and they moved away as Alex looked down at his timetable for the evening and tried to work out where they were going next. He was happy to see it was another language – French.

"That wasn't so bad," Wolf commented as they waited for Alex's French teacher to become free. As usual, all the teachers were running slightly behind. Alex found himself thinking about his last Parents' Evening, which Ian Rider had attended. It was before Alex had even known about MI6, and had been attending school with an almost perfect record. All the teachers had given glowing reports, but somehow his uncle had still found fault. When they'd got home he'd insisted Alex speak only German for a week, because he thought the other language teachers had given better reports.

Their meeting with Madame Chambre was similar to the previous one, as was the meeting with Alex's German teacher. As they made their way towards the Maths teachers, Wolf turned to look at Alex with an expression of surprise.

"Just how many languages are you fluent in, Cub?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm not fluent in German," Alex returned.

Wolf snorted. "All right, you're well beyond A level standard, she said. How did you get so good?"

Alex shrugged. "My uncle taught me." The unsettled feeling still hadn't left him. He knew he was doing well in languages – it was other subjects he was more worried about it.

His Maths teacher – one Mr. Lockyer – seemed surprisingly welcoming, though Maths had never been Alex's best subject. He, like Mrs. McDonald, seemed confused at Wolf's presence.

"So are you a relative?" he asked, peering at his notes.

"No," Alex answered for Wolf. "He's just my legal guardian."

"Yes, yes…" Mr. Lockyer made a note on his sheet and then looked up, clasping his fingers together over the table. There was a long moment of silence.

"So how's he getting on?" Wolf asked eventually. To anyone else it sounded perfectly polite, but Alex thought he detected a note of irritation. Mr. Lockyer didn't seem to notice.

"Alex has caught up very well," he said, shuffling through his notes again. "His sessions after school with Mr. Grey has meant he's caught up with remarkably speed and he's at the same level as his classmates. I have to profess my concern at the amount of time Alex had off last term." Mr. Lockyer peered over his glasses. "This time last year I would have said Alex would have easily been on target for the top grade at GCSE. He still has the potential to reach this, but he needs to try and…er, stay healthy so he can continue coming to school."

Alex didn't want to look at Wolf, but as soon as they'd left Mr. Lockyer Wolf stopped him. He didn't look happy.

"What did he mean, you had loads of time off last term? That was before you got appendicitis, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I was ill after my uncle died," Alex said, uncomfortably aware of how many people were around. He looked around, trying to distract the conversation from himself, and caught sight of Tom, who was now sat in the middle of his parents with Mrs. McDonald. His parents looked like they were doing most of the talking at each other, and the Spanish teacher couldn't get a word in edgeways. Tom saw Alex and gave him a look that quite clearly said, 'Help me', but Alex gave him an apologetic expression and turned away to find his Chemistry teacher.

The comments from his science teachers did nothing to improve Wolf's mood. Science was still a subject Alex was struggling with, and when his teachers told Wolf he had tests at the end of term in two days that they fully expected him to fail, Wolf looked as though he was ready to do something dangerous with hydrochloric acid, if given the chance.

Alex's History report improved things somewhat, with Mr. Grey enthusing about Alex's coursework so far, but English was a disaster.

"In all honesty," his teacher said, looking over her glasses, "I don't know if Alex will _ever _manage to catch up in my subject. It would help, quite frankly, if Alex spent more time in school than out of it." And then, just as Alex thought things couldn't get any worse, she continued, "Alex has always been an extremely healthy boy – barely an absence for three years. I understand his uncle died and that must have been terrible, but really. I refuse to believe anyone can be _this_ unwell. He was at school for just three weeks last term! You need to pull yourself together, Alex."

Alex sank down in his seat, wishing the ground would swallow him up. Wolf thanked the English teacher, and then led Alex in stony silence to the car. Alex didn't dare speak on the journey home. It wasn't that he thought Wolf would particularly care about his performance at school, but he didn't want to answer the inevitable questions about his 'illnesses'. He was reasonably sure Wolf would agree with his English teacher: no one could be _that_ ill.

Still, Alex stuck to his story when Wolf rounded on him as soon as they were inside the flat.

"Care to explain yourself?" Wolf's voice sounded calm by all appearances, but Alex wasn't fooled. Wolf's eyes were flashing dangerously.

"Care to explain what?" Alex asked, trying to look innocent.

"That! Just now! Not one teacher failed to make some sort of comment on your absence from school."

Alex shrugged. "I had appendicitis. I had to have a lot of time off."

"That doesn't explain last term! That last teacher said she hadn't seen you for more than three weeks!" Wolf looked exasperated. "You're trying to tell me you were _ill_ for all that time?"

"Yes!" Alex answered hotly. He hated this, hated that he'd missed so much school in the first place, but he had no desire to explain the whole story to Wolf.

Wolf looked incredulous. "This is coming from the boy who was beaten so badly on Friday night that he passed out and was out at football practice the next morning. You really expect me to believe that you're some weakling who's too ill to attend school?"

"I can't help it!" Alex protested, but he knew his case was unconvincing. Everything that Wolf had seen so far suggested that Alex was extremely fit, and Alex had little evidence to point to the contrary. He suddenly felt very isolated. Jack would have understood the reports had she been here, and inevitably would have started a rant about his involvement with MI6 as soon as they got home, but she would have been on Alex's side. Wolf would probably have understood the MI6 part, but Alex refused to tell him everything.

Wolf was sighing "Look, Cub, education is important. I always knew I wanted to go into the armed forces, but I worked hard at school, I went to university and I got a degree. If something ever happened to me that means I can't fight anymore, I'll always be able to fall back on that. You can't fall back on anything if you fail your GCSEs. What do you even want to do with your life?"

"I think that's already been decided for me," Alex snapped before he could stop himself. He was feeling irritable. Wolf's lecture had caught him by surprise; he'd never had Wolf down as someone who blew the trumpet for education. "Look," he said, "it's not like I had a choice."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Cub, I don't believe for one second that anyone – especially you – could have been ill enough to miss that much school. I can understand some time off after…well, after your uncle died, but, you know, bunking off school isn't the answer, Cub. Screwing up your education isn't right and it can't be excused."

"You think I've been skiving school on purpose?" It was Alex's turn to sound dangerously calm. Wolf ploughed on regardless.

"I don't see any other explanation for it," he said. "You're the healthiest kid I've ever seen or heard of."

Alex fixed Wolf with a hard expression. "My uncle died at the end of March," he said. "That's when I had my first lot of time off school. You work it out." He pushed past Wolf to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, leaving Wolf scratching his head as to what the hell the kid had meant.

* * *

A/N: _Now _Wolf's going to be curious! Hope you all enjoyed the Parents' Evening. In my old school it always worked as follows: every teacher would be in the hall with their own little table and you'd make appointments in advance and basically work your way around until you'd seen everyone. I'm fully aware that this isn't how it happens in every school, but I thought I'd best stick with what I know. Let me know what you thought of the chapter, anyway – nothing gives me greater pleasure (except for actually writing the fic...) than reading what people think of what I'm writing.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I've surprised myself by getting this chapter out so promptly – it needed a lot of work, I've been ridiculously ill this week and the huge workload has been hovering ever-threateningly. But it's here, it's done. So enjoy – it was fun writing it, so I hope it's just as much fun to read.

* * *

Chapter 8

"And he just sort of stood there and went, 'You work it out'. I'd just _said_ I expected him to have wanted some time off after his uncle died. But that doesn't excuse missing so much school for so long, right?" Wolf was letting his frustration overpower him again, and he gritted his teeth in an effort to keep control. In a vain attempt at pretending to appear calm, he reached out and took his glass of water from the table. The man opposite him watched with interest.

"Of course not," he said soothingly. "You believe…Cub was lying to you, then?"

Wolf had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Of all the therapists Special Operations could have chosen, Dr. Patterson really was the worst. Tall, wiry and with grey hair sticking up at various odd angles from his scalp, he was at the unfortunate age when he was young enough not to retire, but old enough that he thought he knew better than everyone else. Wolf was reasonably sure of two things by now. The first was that, had the SAS been allowed to choose their own therapists, they definitely would have chosen someone more sensible. The second was that MI6 had almost certainly only chosen Dr. Patterson to torture Wolf as much as possible.

"I don't know what to believe," he said, deciding to play along with the therapist. The sessions were, after all, confidential, and it wasn't as though Dr. Patterson could make things any _worse._ "I mean, I don't think Cub makes a habit of lying – at least, that's the impression I get. He just doesn't tell the truth."

"Isn't that the same as lying?"

"No." Wolf shook his head. "He doesn't lie; he just steadily refuses to answer questions he doesn't want to. The other day we sent Snake to get some answers from Cub. They spoke for half an hour and Snake didn't get a _word_ out of him about himself. And we've all been trained in interrogation techniques."

Dr. Patterson's brow furrowed. "You think it's appropriate to 'interrogate' a teenager?" And therein lay the problem. Dr. Patterson just didn't know Cub.

"He's not like other teenagers," Wolf insisted. "I can't put my finger on it, but..."

"Congratulations, Luke." At Wolf's bemused expression, the therapist continued. "You've finally achieved the feeling of being a father. All parents feel that their child is special or different in some way…"

Wolf felt as though he'd taken a punch to the gut. "I am _not_ Cub's parent," he growled. "And it's not I _think_ he's different – he is. He's not normal." He felt like hitting Dr. Patterson – anything to wipe that sympathetic smile from his face. "You don't understand," he muttered.

"It's very understandable," Dr. Patterson told him. "You'll realise that soon. You just haven't recognised the feelings of parenthood yet." He looked down at his watch, and then at his notes. "You've made a lot of progress today, Luke."

Wolf sank down in his chair. He felt like he'd taken a number of steps _backwards,_ particularly when it came to a certain fourteen year-old.

* * *

As it happened, at that exact moment, Alex happened to be worrying about Wolf. Alex had got up, dressed and run out of the door without breakfast in an effort to avoid his guardian that morning, though he had caught a glimpse of Wolf sitting at the table waiting for him. He'd known the man had been waiting for him because he had the newspaper held open upside down. Alex had heard Wolf call his name as he'd shut the front door, but he'd ignored him and run up the steps to his bike. His attendance at school was not a conversation he wanted to have first thing in the morning.

In fact, it wasn't a conversation Alex ever wanted to have with Wolf again, but he knew it was inevitable. The problem was that Alex was running out of answers, but he just kept supplying Wolf with more questions. He didn't want to insult Wolf's intelligence, but he was reasonably sure Wolf hadn't worked out why his absences had started when his uncle died. Alex didn't even know if Wolf knew his uncle had been involved with MI6. Wolf probably just thought, like everyone else, that Alex had either become clinically depressed and needed counselling, or was a problem teenager that had become involved in dangerous pursuits.

Well, he _had_ sort of become involved in dangerous pursuits, but not in a drug-related way.

Alex dragged his mind back to the present, trying to focus on what his German teacher was saying. There was simply no way to explain himself properly to Wolf without telling the truth. And explaining the last eight months was the last thing he felt like doing.

* * *

Wolf had assembled his unit. They were obediently lined up in front of him. He surveyed the three of them approvingly as he stood facing them. He had their full attention. It was time to begin.

"I went to Cub's Parents' Evening last night," he began, and was immediately interrupted.

"You mean _that's_ what all this is about?" Wolf's head snapped downwards. The illusion was broken. He wasn't briefing his men – in any case, Jackal was absent anyway; this wasn't relevant to him. The question had come from Eagle, however, who, far from standing to attention listening to his leader, was squeezed in between Snake and Fox on Wolf's sofa, looking distinctly…was that boredom written all over his face?

"_Yes_," Wolf snapped. "It's important!"

"Ah, Eagle, have some sensitivity. Wolf's taking his new parenting duties seriously," Fox said, nudging Eagle.

Snake let out a laugh. "Now _that's_ serious. Wolf as a parent." The other two started to chuckle. Wolf felt his blood pressure rising.

"This_ is_ serious!" he insisted, his voice sharp. "He's at risk of failing several of his GCSEs altogether. His teachers said he's never at school."

That shut them up.

"What, he just doesn't turn up?" Fox was the first to speak. Wolf would always think of him as Fox, and as part of the team, even though he'd left them for MI6 and technically no longer required a codename. Somehow 'Ben' didn't suit him as well as 'Fox'.

"But he always seemed like such a well-behaved kid," Snake said, sounding confused. "I mean, he's always doing his homework, isn't he?"

"And he cooks and cleans," Eagle protested. "What kind of problem teenager does that?"

"What kind of _any_ teenager does that?" Wolf muttered, and then cleared his throat. "He claims it's because he's been ill. Since last March."

"I don't believe it," Snake and Eagle said together. Wolf noticed Fox was frowning, looking deep in thought.

"Fox?" he prompted. Fox's head jerked upwards. The thoughtfulness was wiped from his face and replaced with a blank look that Wolf couldn't read. It somehow seemed familiar to Wolf, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. _Damned spies._

"Nothing," Fox said. "Is March when his uncle died?"

Wolf's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"Lucky guess." Fox shrugged. "Maybe he told me. I don't remember." Wolf got the impression he was trying to be deliberately vague. He resisted the urge to shake his former teammate.

"Just when exactly did you 'work' with him?" he demanded.

"Well, I left the SAS at the end of July. So I suppose sometime between then and now," Fox said, almost lazily, though Wolf understood it was just a front. He could see the classic signs of Fox on his guard – his fingers were tapping against the side of his face and he had started jiggling his foot slightly. He'd always done it under interrogation, too.

"And you actually worked with him, did you? As part of Special Operations?" Wolf's tone, too, was almost casual, trying to catch Fox off his guard. But he kept his gaze fixed to Fox's, daring him not to answer. To his surprise, Fox met his stare coolly. It seemed MI6 had given him extra training in resisting interrogation. The man could see it from a mile off, even if it wasn't aggressive.

"I met Alex whilst on an assignment," Fox said.

"How?"

"I found him."

"Where?"

"You _know _I can't tell you!" Fox finally exclaimed, exasperated. "I know you're curious, but you know he's been involved with Special Operations before and I really don't know much more than you do. Drilling me on my past assignments isn't going to give you the answers you want."

Wolf opened his mouth to argue, but Snake spoke before he could.

"I wonder if his absences have anything to do with the Lorcet you found in his room," he said.

They all fell silent as they contemplated this.

"He doesn't have any injuries, though…does he?" Eagle asked rather uncertainly. "Or any medical conditions. We'd have found out about them by now."

"Well, maybe…maybe he doesn't actually _need_ them," Snake said. Fox turned around to look at him incredulously.

"Now you're suggesting Alex is addicted to painkillers?" he exclaimed. "Listen to yourselves! Does Alex _look_ like a drug addict?"

The other three had to contend that no, admittedly he didn't. Then Eagle spoke up.

"Wasn't it around March the kid came to Brecon Beacons?" he said.

Wolf's mouth snapped shut as he processed this information. He didn't know if Eagle was right – days and weeks tended to merge into one another during training – but if he _were_ correct...

"Does it matter?" Fox pointed out. "It was probably the Easter holidays. Aren't they sometime in March?"

Eagle slumped back, nodding, but Wolf's brain was working fast. _"My uncle died at the end of March. That's when I had my first lot of time off school. You work it out."_ Had Cub been sent straight to Brecon Beacons after his uncle had died? Which would mean...what exactly? That _all _Cub's absences had been because of MI6? But surely..._surely_ Special Operations wouldn't risk the kid's education like that... Disturbingly, Wolf found himself uncertain. Cub had seemed so angry the previous night – was it because his absences were down to his involvement with SO? He voiced these thoughts out loud.

"You really think Special Operations would put Alex's education at risk?" Fox asked disbelievingly. "I mean, he's worked for them before – we all know that – but, trust me, they're very picky about education. Practically everyone there's been to Oxford or Cambridge. And those who haven't better damn well have got a first class degree, else you're chucked into the rejection pile without them caring how many languages you speak or how fit you are."

That was the problem Wolf was having in piecing the information together; it wasn't as though MI6 didn't think education was important. He fell silent again, trying to find another – any – explanation.

"Maybe," Fox continued, "you should stop trying to figure the poor kid out like he's another enemy you're trying to anticipate, and concentrate on the fact he needs help with his schoolwork."

Once again, they were quiet. At last, Eagle spoke, his voice quiet.

"You have to admit, though," he said, "regardless of what the kid's been getting up to, Wolf getting all parental…it _is _pretty funny…"

And to Wolf's annoyance, the three sitting in front of him burst into peels of laughter. He stood with his arms folded, glaring at them.

That was how Alex found them when he arrived home from school several minutes later.

He dropped his bag in the hall, and, hearing the laughter from the sitting room, he moved hesitantly to the source of the noise. When he entered the room, he found Snake, Eagle and Ben on the sofa – Eagle practically lying across the other two, he was laughing so hard – and the other two attempting to push him off. Wolf stood in front of them, unsmiling and looking exasperated. Alex cleared his throat. Eagle almost jumped to attention.

"Cub!" he said. "Come and sit down. We have something important we need to discuss with you."

"Eagle…" Wolf said warningly, but Alex sat down slowly on the footstool nearest the sofa, trying to ignore the nudges Snake and Ben were given Eagle, who leaned towards him.

"Now, Cub." Eagle's voice was serious. "I hear you've been missing a lot of school. This is simply unacceptable. You've been a _very naughty Cub_."

Snake was the first to crack, let out an explosive snort that was soon followed by Eagle's burst of laughter. Ben's lips twitched for a few seconds before he caught Alex's eye and starting chuckling again. Completely bemused, Alex looked at Wolf, but Wolf was searching him with a calculating expression. He didn't look away as Alex caught his eye, but he didn't smile either. It was the way someone might look at a ticking bomb as they worked out how to disarm it.

Feeling uncomfortable and wanting to get away from Wolf's strange behaviour, Alex stood again, but to his surprise, Ben reached out and held him down.

"Not so fast," he said, his voice serious – genuinely so. "We do need to talk about your problems at school. What subjects are you struggling with?"

Alex, who had been expecting a hoard of questions regarding his absences, was stunned into silence for several seconds. It was Wolf who finally spoke, breaking his strange expression away from Alex.

"Science is the main one," he said. "Apparently there're tests in Physics and Chemistry tomorrow, for which he's been predicted a failing grade."

Ben looked shocked for a second, but hid it well. He shot the others a grin.

"Well, luckily for you, Alex, it just so happens that we all completed degrees in Science subjects at university…"

* * *

"All right, everyone, pens down please, and swap your papers. Your time is up." Miss Flack stood at the front of the class, hands on bony hips as everyone tried to scribble some sort of answer to the last question. Rumour had it that anyone who failed the last Physics test of term would be subjected to lunchtime tutoring twice a week for the whole of next term.

"_Pens down_ and swap your papers. We'll mark the test and then you can go."

There were several grumbles from around the classroom as sheets of paper rustled. Having a Physics test on the last day of term was bad enough. Having it on the last lesson was evil.

"Absolute nightmare," Tom said as he gave Alex his paper. It seemed to be covered in crossings out. Alex finished checking his answer to number sixteen and then reluctantly passed across his test too. "I've never really got that whole energy thing," Tom continued. "Surely potential energy is when it hasn't moved yet, so it's not really energy at all?"

Alex stayed quiet and waited for Miss Flack to read out the answers. He'd done well in the Chemistry test that morning – come second in the class, in fact – but he was far more worried about Physics. Wolf, Eagle, Snake and Ben had stayed up with him until well past midnight the previous night taking him through every area of the syllabus he hadn't understood, and then some. Alex now knew more about nuclear energy than he'd ever thought possible. Unfortunately, it had been Eagle and Snake who had taken him through Chemistry, and Ben and Wolf who were the Physics experts. It had almost become a competition between the two pairs – who could teach Alex better. Certainly, Alex knew which pair scared him more and which test he'd tried harder on.

And thank _God_ – the question of why exactly he was so behind had been left alone the previous night. He'd seen Wolf look at him suspiciously a few times, but Ben had jumped in with any topic they hadn't talk about, and the matter hadn't arisen. Alex knew it was only a matter of time. He kept thinking about the strange, calculating expression on Wolf's face...he _must _have figured it out. But how on earth had he managed not to say anything about it? Was it Ben – was Ben keeping him quiet?

"Okay, question one," Miss Flack said. "The weight of a stone lying on the table…"

As she went through the answers, there were many audible groans from around the classroom and even some whispering about how certain sadistic teachers couldn't even let up at Christmas. Alex tried to concentrate and remember what he'd written and what he'd got right and wrong, but found it was mostly a blur. Tom's paper, by the time Alex had finished with it, was mainly a mass of crosses and underlining. He winced as he handed it back to his friend.

"Sorry," he said. "Thirty-five percent."

Tom waved his hand. "Only a stupid Physics test. Hang on, I'm just working yours out…" He scribbled a few numbers at the top and then looked up and stared.

"_Ninety-six percent_?" he asked incredulously. "What did you do – cheat?"

"Had Wolf as a teacher," Alex said, his voice grim but unable to hide his surprise and pleasure. He'd never done so well on a Physics test, even before Ian had died.

Miss Flack, too, failed to disguise her shock as she collected in the papers.

"Thirty-five percent, Tom; you'll have to do a lot of work over the holidays. Tutoring next term. Alex…" She stopped as she picked up Alex's test. She flicked through it a few times, nodded and looked back at him. "Well done, Alex," she said eventually, though it looked as though it pained her to spit the words out.

Alex only smiled.

* * *

It was with a light heart that he unlocked his bike outside school after the lesson, despite the snow that had started to drizzle again. It was the last day of term – the Christmas holidays stretched out in front of him – and for the first time since his uncle had died, Alex felt he was succeeding at school again. He wouldn't be struggling to try to catch up for the whole holiday – all he had to do was read a few books for English. He could _relax_.

At least, that was how Alex felt until he stopped at a red light five minutes from Wolf's flat. He put one foot on the ground, waiting for the lights to change, and looked around at the people hurrying by. It was a week before Christmas – people were hurrying towards Kensington high street to do their shopping, bowing their heads against the wind and pulling their coats tight around them. Alex hadn't even thought about Christmas shopping. He'd probably buy Sabina and Tom something, but what of Wolf? Alex tried in vain to imagine Wolf and Christmas being a good combination. The man hadn't so much as put up a set of fairy lights in his flat.

It was just as the lights were about to turn to green when Alex saw him. The man in the hat and long coat! He was walking briskly away from Alex, pulling up his collar as he did so. Alex could only see the back of him, but he was sure it was the same person. The man paused on a corner, looked around for a second, and disappeared into the adjacent street. As the lights changed colour, Alex made a split-second decision, and followed the man on his bike.

This time he wasn't afraid of being followed – he'd already checked outside Brooklands that there was no one who fitted the profile of the men who had attacked him, and he'd deliberately taken the most convoluted way to this point to throw off anyone who might be following him. The advantage of a bike, too, was that it was slower than a car so it was difficult to follow, but easy enough for Alex to follow someone on foot.

The man turned another corner, and then another, and another, until he arrived in a narrow deserted street where the snow had settled on the ground. Alex almost followed him there before realising he would be too obvious – there was no one else around. He chose a lamppost on the corner of the street, dismounted his bike, and hunched down, pretending to be locking the bike up. The man paid no attention to him – didn't even seem to notice him. He was standing alone, exactly the way he had on Friday night, clearly waiting for something – or someone. After a few minutes, Alex's patience was rewarded. Another man had appeared at the other end of the road, and was striding towards the first man. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Alex hid himself more around the corner.

This time, it seemed, it was an ordinary meeting of two men – if you could call such circumstances ordinary. There was no sheet of paper, no threats. They stood talking quietly for several minutes, and there were many nods. After a few minutes, however, Alex began to notice the second man's body language, and the way he was almost cowering under his companion, as though afraid. Alex's eyes narrowed. Just how did the man with the hat and coat have such an intimidating presence?

Still, he doubted he was going to learn anything here. He took a step towards his bike, intending to unlock it. Later he wondered what made him forgo his hiding place. A false sense of security, perhaps? Arrogance? Yet something out of the corner of his eye made him duck at the last second. His heart gave a leap as a bullet whistled past his ear.

He looked wildly to the two men. It was the man in the hat who had shot at him, but he was already running away. The second man looked petrified, and, bizarrely, started to run _towards_ Alex, before disappeared around a corner before he got to him. Heart still jumping, Alex abandoned his bike and sprinted after him, knowing this could be his only chance, wanting to get some answers. The man had already stopped, panting, telling Alex he was unfit. Yet as Alex neared him, he still struck out with a kick, which Alex dodged easily and followed up with a kick of his own, bringing the man to the ground. Whimpering slightly, the man reached into his inside pocket, drawing something out, but Alex was already knocking it away, twisting the man's arm behind his back and reaching for the gun himself. The man let out a moan as Alex held the gun to his head.

"Tell me what you know," he said sharply. Despite his obvious fear, the man still managed a harsh laugh.

"What good would it do you – a teenage boy? You probably don't even know how to use that thing. Why don't you let me go and we'll forget all about this."

"Don't bet on it," Alex said, and aimed the gun at a post box at the end of the street. He fired. The gun didn't have a silencer and the sound was loud in the silence. The bullet went through the letter opening of the post box. The man whimpered again.

"It – it's to do with Iraq," he said, his voice tight. "Max Lacey…" There was a small pop and the man started to make a strange gargling sound. Alex looked down in confusion. Blood was spurting like a fountain out of the man's neck and a small hole was visible. A bullet wound.

Horrified, Alex let the man fall to the ground again, standing up, yet somehow unable to tear his eyes from the nauseating scene. The man was rolling around, clutching his throat, still gurgling, before suddenly stiffing. His hands fell. His body went limp. He was dead.

Alex's eyes search the street, but it was empty. The shooter had gone.

He knew who it had been, though. The bullet had been shot with a silenced gun – the same one that had shot at Alex just minutes previously and, he knew, the same one that had murdered the man on Friday night. The shooter might be out of sight, but Alex was undoubtedly still in danger.

He reached down and tucked the dead man's gun into the same inside pocket it had come from. He couldn't possibly keep it. He backed away and ran around the corner to his bike, neglecting to notice the footprints in the snow that he was following.

* * *

Eagle had been having a very good day – the first enjoyable day he'd had in a long time. It had started the previous evening, when he and the other members of his unit (he preferred not to think of Jackal as being part of that) had tutored Cub in Science. They had had _fun_. Strange as it seemed, Eagle thought even Cub had enjoyed himself.

All of them had woken up late, after Cub had left for school, and had sat down and eaten breakfast together – which Wolf, surprisingly, had cooked. Fox had commented, amused, at the amount of cholesterol and fat they were all eating and there had even been jokes between them at how unfit they must be by now.

None of them lived far away, and so they had all gone home at lunchtime to shower and change, with promises they'd be back by the time Cub got in. Eagle only lived five minutes away, but on the way home he'd deliberately gone a very long way, running, feeling slightly guilty at how little exercise he'd done recently. They were all letting themselves go – it wasn't right. They'd have to go back to training sometime. And, actually, he'd felt a lot better for the exercise anyway.

He decided, however, on the way back, to just walk the most direct route up to High Street Kensington and down to Wolf's flat. Eagle himself lived in very similar dwellings, though the street he lived on was quieter and smaller. As always, he double locked the door as he left. He started to make his way to Wolf's, hurrying, knowing he was slightly late and that Cub might already have got home from school.

It was a shock, therefore, to see Cub himself crouching at the corner of the street just off Eagle's own. He first saw a blonde teenager, and then the bike he recognised as Cub's, and knew it was him. Cub was still in his uniform. He was about to call out when Cub moved towards his bike, and made a very sudden movement. Eagle gaped as he saw a bullet – _a bullet!_ – narrowly miss Cub's head. Cub looked down the adjacent street wildly, not even glancing in Eagle's direction, and suddenly took off at a sprint. Frowning, Eagle moved after him, keeping at a distance, not wanting to draw Cub's attention to his presence. Something was very wrong here.

He was not prepared, however, for the sight that greeted him as he looked around the corner of the street Cub had disappeared down. He crouched low, keeping hidden, and watched, dumbfounded, as Cub brought a fully grown man to the ground with a kick. Eagle had seen it before, with Jackal, but it had been funny then – now it was deadly serious. Eagle saw the man reach for a weapon and was about to call out, but there was a blur of movement, and suddenly Cub was holding the man's arm behind his back and pressing a gun to the man's head.

Eagle's heart leaped into his throat. What was Cub doing?

He watched as Cub said something to the man, who answered. Cub suddenly pointed the gun to the opposite end of the street, to a post box. There was a gunshot and Eagle watched, fascinated, as the bullet Cub had fired shot through the letter opening. There was no doubt it had been intentional. Cub knew how to use a gun with deadly accuracy. Wolf's crazy theory about Cub's absences from school flashed through Eagle's head. Was it _that_ crazy? How could Cub shoot like that?

The man spoke again, and Cub nodded, but Eagle's attention was now focused at the end of the street, at a figure that had appeared, but whose features he couldn't make out at this distance. He saw the man hold up a weapon. He was going to shoot Cub! Eagle stood, about to shout, but he saw the man fire, though heard nothing, and watched, fixated, as the man Cub was holding jerked and started shaking. Cub let him go, standing up. Eagle looked for the shooter, but he'd disappeared again. Cub was safe. Eagle watched the boy replace the weapon and back away from the man's body, now limp. Cub was moving towards his hiding place.

He turned and ran in the opposite direction.

* * *

Alex rode around the streets of Kensington and Chelsea for more than half an hour before finally heading back to Wolf's flat. He still felt tense and uneasy, but was now satisfied no one was coming after him. He tied his bike up to the railings outside the flat, and made his way down the steps. Before putting the key in the lock, he paused. He had to forget what had happened, for now. K unit would think he'd just been to school, done the Science tests, and come home again. He had to make them believe that was the case.

When he opened the front door, however, there was only silence – no sound at all. Frowning, Alex closed the door, dropped his bag and hung up his jacket. Surely _someone _would be in. They'd told him they were all taking the day off – apparently using any excuse – and would be here waiting when he came in.

Sure enough, however, Ben appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. Alex forced a smile, which, strangely, Ben didn't return.

"You're home," he said. "Did you do the tests?" Though he asked the question, there seemed no real curiosity in his words – almost as if he was asking just to make polite conversation.

"Yeah, I did them," Alex said slowly. "Ninety-four per cent in Chemistry and ninety-six in Physics."

He could have said he'd failed – Ben barely reacted, only nodding absently. "The others are waiting for you in here." There was something ominous in his words – something not quite right – but Alex followed him anyway. The rest of K unit – including Jackal, Alex noted with some unease – were indeed waiting in the sitting room, lined up on the sofa and chairs like an interrogation team.

"Alex passed his Science tests!" Ben said, but even Alex could hear the false cheer in his voice. None of the others reacted. Alex turned his gaze to Ben again.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Ben remained silent. It was eventually Snake who answered his question.

"Nothing, Cub," he said evenly. "We just wondered where you learned to shoot so damned well."

* * *

A/N: Looks like Wolf was right after all - the cat's definitely out of the bag now, and Wolf will undoubtedly let Alex have it next chapter. Hope you enjoyed it, guys – my workload next week's horrendous (even worse than usual) but I'll do my best to update within a fortnight. Please, please review – I love knowing what you all think. Thanks also to everyone who's added this to their story alerts – but I'd like to know why you're enjoying the story too, so don't you forget to review either. Adios for now!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hey again guys, thank you again for all the wonderful reviews – this is about a week late, so many apologies for that, but it needed a lot of work done to it that I simply didn't have time to do. I'm still unhappy with it, but you have to let go sometime so don't be too harsh!

* * *

Chapter 9

Alex's heart almost stopped beating. He couldn't have heard correctly. His mind raced as he tried to work out how they could have known. The street had been deserted – no one had been around. He studied each of them carefully, trying to determine whether they actually knew what had happened. But why else would they ask that question? Finally he settled for feigning ignorance.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"You heard." It was Wolf who had spoken. He did not sound happy. "Where did you learn to shoot? How do you even know how to use a gun? You certainly weren't allowed to with us."

Alex let his gaze settle on the wall directly above Wolf's head, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. He had a feeling Wolf would not enjoy hearing about his training at Malagosto.

"No, I wasn't allowed to," he said carefully, "and I didn't. I don't know what you're talking about."

"For God's sake, Cub!" Eagle exploded. He had looked white and tense until this moment, but now he seemed frustrated. "I saw you! On Damsel Road! You shot a post box and got it through the damn letter hole at fifty feet!"

Alex felt sick. He didn't know where Damsel Road was, but he was prepared to bet it was the road he had been in. Wolf and Snake were giving him hard looks. Eagle had a pleading expression on his face, as though wishing Alex would tell him he'd been wrong. Ben…Ben's face was impassive as he stared at Alex, who fought to read his expression. Was it anger? Disappointment? _Pity?_ Jackal only looked disbelieving, and voiced his thoughts immediately.

"Are you _sure_ it was Cub, Eagle?" he drawled, folding his arms. "He's fourteen. He probably doesn't even know which way up a gun goes."

"Yes, I'm sure! He _knows _which way up it goes," Eagle insisted.

Snake cleared his throat. "Which leads us back to the question, Cub, of where you learned to shoot. And what you were doing with a gun in the first place."

Alex swallowed. "I didn't shoot anyone. Someone tried to shoot me."

"Why would they do that?" Jackal's voice was a sneer.

"I don't know!"

Eagle nodded. "It did happen, though, I saw it. Someone else definitely had a gun."

Jackal had fallen silent and was watching Alex carefully, not even so much as blinking. Alex felt uncomfortable under his gaze, but said nothing, unwilling to provoke more questions. Wolf soon put an end to the silence.

"Just answer the question, Cub," he said. "How do you know how to use a gun?"

Alex was trapped. His mind worked quickly. "My uncle taught me."

Wolf raised his eyebrows. "Your uncle taught you a lot of things, didn't he? Three languages, how to use a gun…perfectly normal things you might teach your nephew."

"Well, he was a spy," Alex said impatiently. "It's not that surprising." He had anticipated that this was something the unit would have known, but they greeted this information with surprise. Wolf's eyes narrowed, and Alex could almost see the cogs turning in his brain. Would he now work out why Alex started missing school once his uncle died? And why MI6 was in charge of his welfare? Surely he _must_ know by now?

"That's irrelevant," Snake argued, "unless he was training you to become a spy."

Jackal gave him a very hard look. Wolf wasn't looking at him, but Alex knew – _knew_ – he must have worked it out. He stole a glance at Ben, who, to his surprise, gave a very slight shake of the head. No matter how much he trusted his teammates, Ben clearly thought MI6 and spying was clearly a topic they should get away from. Yet how was Alex supposed to divert their attention? He felt a rush of gratitude as Ben opened his open and started speaking.

"I think the point is actually," the older man said, "why Alex had a gun in the first place, not how he knew how to use it."

"It was self-defence." Alex knew no matter how he answered, Ben would eventually steer the conversation to safer ground. It was best to stick to safe answers. "I didn't intend to use it on the man. He pulled it out on me. I just wanted to scare him."

Ben nodded. "Well, there you go, guys. Self-defence. Any of us would have done the same."

"We're SAS soldiers!" Eagle protested. "He's just a kid!" He still looked unsettled by it all, and, in fairness, Alex could see why. He'd just seen Alex hold a gun to someone's head. It didn't look good.

"Yeah, he is just a kid," Wolf said slowly. It was the first time he'd spoken in a while. "So why _did_ he have a gun? Eagle's right – we're SAS soldiers. We react the way we do because we're experienced. Which seems to point to the idea that Cub is also experienced." His gaze met Alex's, unwaveringly. "Right, Cub?"

Alex didn't know what to say, and he didn't dare glance at Ben for help again. At his silence, Wolf continued.

"So your uncle was a spy; he dies in March; you come to Brecon Beacons. And that's when you start missing school. Two months later I find you throwing yourself down a mountain in France, supposedly for Special Operations – now I think about it, during the school term. Your teachers say you're never at school." Alex noticed Wolf's fists were clenched. "You know how to shoot so well because you've been working for MI6 all this time."

It wasn't stated as a question, but Alex wished it had been. Then he might have had some opportunity to deny it – there might have been some doubt behind Wolf's words. As it was, he was trapped. Torn between admitting it because it might stop the interrogation, and denying it because somehow he knew admittance would lead to more questions, he chose to deny it anyway. He didn't _want_ all the questions about what he'd been doing for MI6. He didn't want to explain how he'd ended up there, how Ian had trained him, how he'd driven Jack away because of his involvement with Special Operations.

"No." The single word was quiet, but strong. Eagle and Snake looked taken aback, but Wolf was on his feet, inches away from Alex's face.

"Then what? You really have been sick? That bout of appendicitis lasted two terms, did it? Why not just admit it, Cub? You've been working for Blunt and Jones."

_Why not just admit it?_ It was a reasonable point. K unit knew he'd been involved with MI6 before – quite apart from Brecon Beacons and France, how else had he ended up with Wolf as a guardian? But out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ben's worried expression, and remembered Ben's slight shake of the head a few moments before. Now – for whatever reason – wasn't the time to discuss this. He'd have to find out why later.

"I've been receiving counselling," he snapped at Wolf, trying his best to sound convincing. He thought he did a good job – Eagle and Snake looked flabbergasted – but Jackal's eyes were narrowed, assessing him. Alex wasn't sure he'd bought it. Wolf did, for a moment, look astounded, but then the suspicion returned.

"How did you end up working with Ben, then?"

Alex opened his mouth to answer, but Jackal, too, had questions.

"I think we need to start at the beginning," he said smoothly, and Alex immediately hated him for it. _We?_ He didn't know Jackal; he wasn't involved in this. Why was he there? He hated him more once the man had continued. "How was it that you ended up training in Brecon Beacons in the first place? You _were_ there, I'm assuming; this isn't some joke you've all conjured up together."

Remembering Jackal's disbelief the first time they had met, Alex wondered why the man had changed his mind. He didn't seem to be questioning that Alex had ever been in SAS training now. Alex answered carefully. "Yes; I told you I was there."

"And MI6 put you there?"

Alex was thrown temporarily, unsure if this was safe ground, but Wolf answered for him.

"Of course," he said. "Sergeant told us at the time it was a Special Operations job."

"But it wasn't necessarily because he was _working_ for MI6, no?" Jackal had stood up too, now, coming closely to Alex, studying him intensely. He was a good six foot, and at least as broad as Wolf. Alex wondered if Jackal intended to intimidate him. "What if it was all just a game? Just a bit of fun?" His last question sounded almost casual, but to Alex's ears it was biting. "Daddy organise it for you, did he?"

It was so far from what Alex had been expecting, that he was almost speechless. Yet something in Jackal's eyes – was it triumph? Taunting? – told him the man already knew it wasn't true. How? Alex increasingly got the impression Jackal knew far more about him than he knew about Jackal. He found his tongue. "I don't think so. My parents are dead."

If he thought this would shut Jackal up, he was sorely mistaken. The man didn't even look uncomfortable. Did he already _know?_ "Your uncle, then. The 'spy'. Got his employers to set you up an adventure holiday?"

"He's dead, too." Alex felt frustrated. "As Wolf said, he died just before I went to Brecon Beacons."

"Then, pray tell, how did _you_ come to be training with the SAS if it wasn't some sort of twisted adventure holiday for you?" Jackal was sneering now. He turned to Wolf. "You _can't_ believe he's been working for the Secret Service since March. Listen to yourself! A _fourteen year-old_ working for MI6. All right, so you met him in France one time while you were working there. That doesn't mean this kid's been working for MI6 constantly for the last eight months."

Wolf mulled this over for a minute, and, strangely enough, Alex felt some sort of gratitude towards Jackal. It _did_ sound ridiculous, when you thought about it. Would Wolf buy it?

"No," Wolf said at last, "it doesn't." He raised his eyes to meet Alex's. "But I went to see Jones myself, and she told me Cub's one of the most effective agents they've ever had. I would say that's pretty damning evidence."

Jackal did not look happy. His gaze moved from Wolf to Alex again. "So what on earth have you been doing for the last eight months?"

Alex wondered why Jackal seems to be calling the shots. He chanced another look at the others; Eagle was still looking white and shaken, Snake and Wolf still looked suspicious and Ben's expression was still unreadable. So why had the situation changed? Why was Jackal suddenly being allowed to question him? Alex realised he hadn't spent a lot of time in the company of Jackal, though it certainly wasn't something that appealed. Perhaps this was how K unit functioned now – they let Jackal take the lead. The unit was certainly dysfunctional enough. Yet somehow this picture didn't fit with what Alex knew about Wolf. Wolf's place was as team leader. So why was he allowing Jackal to take charge?

Alex's thoughts were cut abruptly short by Jackal moving in front of him, closer than Wolf had been, reducing the space between them to a few short inches.

"Answer the question," he said. "If you've been working for MI6, what have you been doing for them? Why _can_ you shoot so well?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Ben open his mouth, but he beat him to it.

"Sorry, can't tell you," he said coolly. "Classified."

He'd pushed Jackal too far. With an angry grunt, the man drove his fist towards Alex, who blocked him easily and delivered a cutting blow that had the older man doubled up. Then, fast as lightning, he twisted Jackal's arm behind his back the way he'd done to the other man earlier that day. Jackal let out a hiss. Alex bent down low to speak in his ear.

"It really is classified," he said softly. "And Special Operations really did send me to Brecon Beacons. So don't test me."

He released Jackal sharply, and stood up, raising his gaze to find the rest of K unit gaping at him. He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot.

"I have to – I'm going out," he said abruptly, and bolted from the room.

The men stared after him.

"I told you, he's bloody _lethal_," Eagle said once they'd heard the front door slam. Jackal picked himself up from the floor, brushing down his front, and let out a harsh laugh.

"_Lethal's _a bit of a strong word," he said. "He's quick and knows a bit of karate. That doesn't make him lethal."

"You're just sore because you were beaten by a teenager." Eagle folded his arms. Jackal's eyes narrowed.

"I don't have to stand for this. This unit's getting ridiculous – over a teenager. I'm leaving; I need to go to the gym anyway. Should we ever be allowed back to training." And he left the same way Alex had done.

"He does a lot of storming off in a strop, doesn't he?" Eagle said as the front door slammed shut again. "He's more like a teenager than Cub is."

"I'm going to follow him." Ben made his way towards the door.

"Who, Jackal?" Snake sounded confused.

"No, Cub," Ben called, and the front door banged shut for the third time.

* * *

Alex still felt unnerved even as he put distance between himself and the flat. He'd walked for five minutes, steadily in the direction of Sabina's apartment, before starting to shiver and realising he'd forgotten his jacket. The wind was biting, and he rubbed his upper arms, trying to keep warm. He turned another corner…and somehow found himself face to face with Jackal.

Perfect.

Alex made to sidestep around him, but the older man grabbed his upper arm painfully tight and pulled him round to face him again.

"What do you want?" Alex asked.

"For you to stop _disrespecting _me," Jackal spat, and shook Alex by his shoulders. "I don't care if you've trained with the SAS; I don't care if you're one of MI6's best operatives – though if you are, it's not saying much." His face came very close to Alex's. "You're bad news for this unit; it's got problems that need a solution, not some self-righteous teenager who thinks because he had a few days with the SAS that he's in charge. Just _stay away from us, _got it? Stay away from Eagle and Snake. And don't even so much as _look_ at me."

"As if I deliberately choose to look at _your_ face," Alex retorted. Jackal raised his hand, balled up into a fist, and Alex squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blow but instinctively ready to block it. The punch never came. There was a howl of pain and Jackal's grip on him was suddenly released. Alex opened his eyes to see Ben standing next to him, and Jackal lying on the ground, apparently unconscious. Alex caught Ben's eye.

"You followed me," he said.

"Just as well I did," Ben answered. "We need to talk."

Alex allowed himself to be led away from Jackal. As soon as they were out of earshot and in a deserted street, Ben started to speak, his voice quiet, making sure no one overheard them.

"Alex, I don't know exactly what's been going on with you," he started, "but," he put his hand up as Alex started to interrupt, "I'm not sure I want to know. I know you've worked for SO on a number of occasions, as well as with other agencies. I'm pretty sure it started after your uncle died, which I think was around the time you came to train with us at Brecon Beacons. I'm not entirely clear why you've missed so much school, but I'm prepared to bet it's something to do with MI6; I don't need to know the details. You were right not to tell the others this afternoon."

Alex frowned. "You don't think they can be trusted?"

"Not the others. Jackal. And it's not I don't trust him, it's just…" Ben stopped where he was and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't think he's a traitor or anything, I just think he's a bit of a bastard. He's not worth the effort. And I don't think he'd believe you even if you _did _tell him the truth. I wouldn't trust him to keep his mouth shut, even if he meant no harm by it."

Alex was silent for a moment. "He blames me for the way things are...you know, with K unit not going back to training."

Ben, too, mulled this over for a moment. "It's nothing to do with you," he said finally. "I'd be surprised if you know nothing about what's going on...but I'm not going to elaborate. It's not our business. But you have _not_ made things worse."

"But you think I should tell the others?" Alex asked. "About MI6, and the missions, and everything?"

Ben surveyed Alex carefully. "I think that's up to you. Officially you're bound by the Official Secrets Act. Unofficially they're as curious as hell and Wolf's now your legal guardian."

Alex hunched his shoulders, putting his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. "I don't know," he said at last. "It's just…it's so difficult to explain. I don't..." He trailed off, half unwilling to admit to what was bothering him so much. "I don't want to relieve the last eight months," he said quietly. "I don't want to have to explain how I got involved in this mess – or everything that happened in Australia – or why I'm living with Wolf. Besides, it kind of sounds unbelievable, you know?"

Ben had looked concerned up until this point, but now his lips twitched. "In all fairness, I wouldn't have believed the kayaking story if I hadn't seen it myself. You're not obliged to tell them. But Wolf asks more questions every day."

"Well, admittedly part of it is that Wolf went through my stuff without permission, and I think he deserves to be kept in the dark." Childish, perhaps, but true.

Ben shrugged. "Well, I won't tell them anything; you know that." He pulled his coat tighter around himself against the cold. "Just one question."

"What's that?" Alex asked, looking up at him.

"The Lorcet?"

Alex let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. Ben gave him a searching look.

"I was shot," Alex finally admitted. "By Scorpia. Around September – before our last run-in with Scorpia, anyway."

Ben was silent, but his jaw had tightened and Alex thought he might be gritting his teeth. Was he angry? As usual, however, Ben's expression remained unreadable.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few minutes. "I didn't realise…I thought SO usually used you for information collection rather than…well, anyway. How did you get shot? Same way I did?" His face broke into a lopsided grin. "By being reckless and charging into a room without looking first?"

Alex couldn't laugh – too vivid was the memory of Ben lying, unconscious, with a bullet in his shoulder in Yu's control room. He tried to force the image away. "I…well, they didn't like me very much. I destroyed their plans. They decided to take revenge."

Comprehension dawned on Ben's face, though the shock was evident in his eyes. "They tried to _assassinate _you?"

"Something like that," Alex said wearily. He was grateful when Ben dropped the subject.

"Alex, we need to talk about…this situation," the older man said after a while, as Alex's teeth started to chatter from the cold. "Look, seriously, take my coat…"

"I'm fine," Alex insisted. He started hopping up and down on the spot – stupid as he felt, it did help. "What situation?"

Ben raked his hand back through his hair and glanced around. There was no one on the street. Darkness was beginning to fall. "What actually happened today? I need to know. Your fingerprints are going to be all over that gun. I need to report a decent story to Blunt and Jones so they can sort it out."

Alex hadn't thought of that. Where to start? "I followed this man…"

"Why?"

Alex stopped up short. He wasn't exactly clear himself why he'd followed the man again after it had gone so badly last time. He decided to start from the beginning. "I saw this man on Friday night," he said slowly.

"When you were attacked?" Ben's tone was sharp. "Did he attack you?"

"No…I followed him, and a group of men followed me…actually I think they were following me all night. I don't know why. But I was waiting for Sabina, and I saw this man – the same man I followed today – meet with another man. They were arguing over something – I couldn't hear, but it seemed to be a piece of paper. Then the first man produced a gun, the other one handed over the paper, and he was dead the next minute." He paused, remembering the sight of the man crumpling into the snow.

Ben was chewing his lip, but he looked pale. "Do you remember what this man looked like? The one who was killed."

"I…" Alex struggled to recall it. "It was dark," he said. "I think he had fair hair. Not tall. Seemed a little bulky, but not fat."

"Davies," Ben said softly.

Alex stared. "You knew him?"

"He was one of ours," Ben said. "He was found on Saturday morning – shot in the torso. What was he doing meeting with your friend, I wonder? He handed over a piece of paper, you say?"

Alex nodded. "It was the same sort of thing today – the same man met with another, and subsequently killed him. Though I don't know if he intended to, or if it was just that he started to talk."

"What did he say?"

Alex stopped short. _Never tell anyone everything_, his uncle had always told him. _Never trust anyone so completely that you leave yourself open to being manipulated._ Alex trusted Ben implicitly, but he still belonged to MI6, and he couldn't shake his uncle's words. He decided to tell some of the truth. "He mumbled something about Iraq. Then he was shot."

"Iraq…" Ben frowned again. "I'm going to need to talk with the Heads about this – that all right?"

Alex didn't suppose he had much control over the matter, but he appreciated Ben's asking all the same. He shrugged and nodded. "I'm…not going to go back to Wolf's tonight, I don't think," he muttered. "Can you tell him? I'll probably go to Sabina's."

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Don't worry if I'm not." Alex gave a weak smile. "Y'know, this would have been a whole lot easier if they'd just let me live with you."

Ben nodded. "What can you do? The powers that be engineer everything. And by the powers I mean Blunt and Jones."

"Yeah," Alex agreed darkly. He wished he was done with Blunt and Jones, but something – some sixth sense he'd developed – told him why he'd been given Wolf as a guardian. Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones were biding their time. They'd _always_ engineered everything. He wasn't expecting them to stop now.

* * *

When Alex knocked at Sabina's door half an hour later, she was only too glad to see him.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me!" she said. "I haven't seen you since Friday."

Alex apologised, explained he needed somewhere to stay for the night and, without asking too many questions, Sabina wasted no time in getting permission from her dad.

"That's fine," she told him, coming out of the study. Her short skirt flounced as she walked. "You can stay on the sofa in my room."

"How's your mum?" Alex asked, looking around for Liz Pleasure.

Sabina's face darkened. "Don't _even _ask. She's out with some female friends. At a bar." She lowered her voice. "Dad's really upset about it, so don't mention it to him."

Alex promised that he wouldn't, and found his thoughts wandering back to Wolf and the extra bottle of vodka that had appeared in the fridge that week. He hoped K unit were still there and that Wolf wouldn't start on that bottle of vodka in the fridge. Wolf didn't seem to realise he had a problem - and Alex didn't particularly fancy being the one to tell him.

* * *

As it happened, several hours later found Wolf sitting alone in his flat, the others having left to go home. Fox had come back to tell him that Cub was staying at a friend's for the night and wouldn't be home. He'd also mentioned the boy was upset and probably shouldn't be questioned when he did come back.

Wolf wasn't sure he believed it. He couldn't imagine Cub being upset. He suspected Fox was trying to stop him questioning the teenager. Cub didn't need help. He deflected questions like nobody's business.

He sat in the living room, the television off and just the lamp next to him on. Night had fallen long ago and the rest of the room – and flat – was shrouded in darkness. Several empty beer bottles and a half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the table next to him. An empty bottle of coke lay on the floor. Wolf took a long gulp from his glass as he mulled over his thoughts.

It was strange, not having Cub around that night. Wolf didn't _like_ having him around, and the boy certainly kept to himself most of the time, but he'd grown used to Cub being there now. And the night before, with Snake, Eagle and Fox all helping Cub with his Science revision…they'd had _fun_. It had almost seemed like old times. Wolf's gaze flickered to the photo of the four of them at Brecon Beacons. They'd almost recaptured that moment.

Eagle's bombshell that afternoon, though…it had shocked them all. And when the others had left a short while ago, they'd all been very quiet. Eagle still looked white and nervous; Snake looked tense. Fox had just seemed worried, as though carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Wolf guessed life was a lot less simple with MI6. He was learning that quickly.

Wolf took a long gulp from his glass. He was certain, now, that Cub was deeply involved with MI6 – far more so than he'd thought. It was no wonder he couldn't figure him out.

Snake, too, was mulling over Cub at that moment. In contrast to Wolf, he sat in front of the television, but without really watching it. He was thinking about the dangerous glint he had seen in Cub's eye as he held Jackal down. Eagle hadn't been far off; Snake suspected he could be lethal if he wanted to be. According to Eagle, the kid shot more accurately than any of them, even after all their training. _Where_ had he learned how to shoot like that?

And why the hell was he taking Lorcet?

Eagle, like Wolf, currently held a stiff drink in his hand. He wasn't particularly a drinker – never had been – but he'd found an old bottle of brandy at the back of his cupboard and had poured himself a large one. He'd seen a lot of things that hadn't even entered his nightmares before joining the SAS, but there was little that could prepare him for seeing Cub – a fourteen year-old – holding a gun to a grown man's head. Nasty as they'd all been to Cub at Brecon Beacons, Eagle had realised by now that Cub was actually all right as teenagers went. Now he felt…not afraid, exactly, but certainly more wary – more aware of what Cub was capable of.

Eagle set the glass down on the table. He'd figure that kid out if it killed him. Somehow.

* * *

A/N: OK, make sure you review lots because the next chapter is where it's really going to kick off. Alex returns from Sabina's – will Wolf be able to keep his mouth shut like Ben's told him to? And a pleasant interlude – a birthday celebration. Might be a couple of weeks, but no longer, I promise!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Phew! Sorry this has taken so long, guys, but here's a Christmas present for everyone. On the plus side – this is my longest chapter yet! Took a while to get here, and I'm still iffy about it, but here it is. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far!

* * *

Chapter 10

Ben arrived at the Royal and General early the next morning – eight o'clock, earlier than he was due to report for work, but this was a matter of urgency, and, besides, he knew Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones would have been at work for at least an hour already. Though he was off active duty, he was currently required to work three days a week, doing paperwork while he recovered. The other days of the week were designated for physiotherapy and doctors' appointments. Ben was sick of the sight of hospitals. He thought he might strangle the next doctor who tried to tell him to take it easy.

He had left a message with Tulip Jones the previous evening, so she knew to expect him. When he knocked on her door, he wasn't surprised to see that Alan Blunt had joined her. The man – totally grey in every aspect, Ben thought – stood at the window, looking onto Liverpool Street below. He glanced at Ben as he entered, but made no comment and his facial expression remained blank. Mrs. Jones, however, greeted him with a warm smile.

"Ben!" she said. "How are you? Please have a seat."

Ben sat down, wondering for the umpteenth time whether the two heads of Special Operations were genuinely how they behaved, or whether they had a good-cop, bad-cop routine going on that they thought would manipulate agents.

"I'm fine," he said. "It's Alex Rider I'm here to discuss." And he launched into an explanation of everything Alex had told him the previous evening.

"That would explain the fingerprints we found on the gun yesterday in Damsel Road," Mrs. Jones said at the end. She was silent for a moment whilst she unwrapped a peppermint. "The dead man was George Gregory, by the way. Another one of ours."

Ben said nothing. Alan Blunt, who had remained quiet throughout Ben's explanation, finally spoke.

"You say Gregory mentioned something about Iraq?" he asked.

"That's what Alex said."

Blunt looked thoughtful. "Interesting. I wonder…" He glanced at Mrs. Jones, and then back at Ben. "How is Alex?"

"Fine, I think," Ben said, taken aback by the question. He hadn't thought Blunt had a caring bone in his body. "He's caught up in school, he's going out with friends…"

"Excellent, excellent," Blunt muttered. He cleared his throat. "We may need to discuss this further in the coming weeks," he told Ben. "Try to get as fit as possible; we may need you on standby at some point."

"Alan…" Mrs. Jones said warningly. She'd obviously guessed what her superior was planning, which was more than Ben had.

"You're free to go, Daniels," Blunt told him, ignoring Mrs. Jones. "Remember what I said."

* * *

Alex returned to Wolf's at lunchtime. He'd originally planned to stay away for a couple of days, but Liz Pleasure had arrived back to the apartment at three o'clock in the morning, slamming the front door closed behind her. As if that hadn't been enough, Liz had then proceeded to stumble into Sabina's room to check they 'weren't getting up to mischief'. Following this, she'd sat down on the edge of Sabina's bed for over an hour, talking about everything under the sun, from boys to how awful she felt about herself. It didn't bother Alex – a drunken woman was better than, say, Julia Rothman – but Sabina had obviously been embarrassed and so he'd left. He was mulling over the problem of Liz Pleasure as he let himself into Wolf's flat, wondering if he chose his friends based on whether they too came from dysfunctional families.

The flat was completely silent as Alex entered. He stood for a moment, listening, reminded of the previous day. It made him uneasy. He shut the front door softly, letting it click shut, and let out a sigh. Of course. It was Thursday. Wolf would be at work.

He passed the kitchen, catching sight of what looked to be a huge mess that no one had bothered clearing up, and entered the sitting room. He wasn't prepared for what he saw, though perhaps he should have been after the night spent at Sabina's. Several empty beer bottles cluttered the table next to the corner armchair and a large vodka bottle stood completely drained on the floor. _Completely drained? _Alex's eyes narrowed. It had been a full bottle when he'd left. His gaze searched the room. Small details jumped out at him – a footstool that wasn't quite straight, a lamp that was still on at this time… Alex turned on his heel and left the room.

Wolf's bedroom door was closed, which made Alex pause, though it wasn't unexpected. Wolf _always_ kept his door closed, whether he was at work, around the house or actually in his room. Alex usually respected that; after all, he was the same. Today, however, was different. After hesitating for a second, he raised his hand and knocked twice.

No answer.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Alex turned away, kicking himself for being so paranoid and suspicious. It was undeniable Wolf had been drinking last night, but he hadn't necessarily been drinking _alone_. And it didn't mean that Wolf hadn't been capable of getting up for work this morning.

Then again…

Alex turned back to the door. Wolf _had_ been drinking alone last night; there had only been one glass on the table in the sitting room, and, despite all the empty bottles, they were clustered around the armchair, rather than spread across the room.

Trying not to think about what would happen if Wolf_ were_ still in bed, Alex turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was dark; the curtains still pulled across the window. It was cluttered – the floor was almost completely covered with dirty clothing, clean clothing, books and paper, so that the carpet itself was barely visible, though Alex wasn't surprised, considering the state the flat had been in when he'd arrived. He stepped into the room, picking his way through the clutter, letting his eyes adjust to the half-light. He could make out a lump in the bed – a suspiciously Wolf-shaped lump.

"Wolf?" Alex said tentatively, feeling at that moment that he'd rather take a round with Scorpia than try to wake an SAS soldier with a bad hangover. There was no response from the man, however, other than to roll over to face Alex, still asleep. Alex moved a little closer, as Wolf's mouth fell open and he let out a loud snore. He might have laughed had the situation not been so serious.

"Wolf," he tried again, a little louder this time. When there was still no response, he moved forward and, after a second's hesitation, shook Wolf's shoulder.

Wolf bolted up in bed so quickly he might have heard a gunshot. His arm shot out to grab Alex, almost as a reflex, but Alex had already taken a step backwards. Wolf groped air blindly for a few seconds before opening his eyes and focussing on Alex.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Storming in here, shaking me awake…" His words were slightly slurred, though Alex suspected that was more to do with the hangover than any chance he was still intoxicated.

"It's half-past one in the afternoon," Alex said, unperturbed. "Don't you have work or something?"

Wolf swore, and then let out a groan. "Work…_Jesus_, my head hurts…I need to phone in…" He reached for the mobile phone on his bedside table, rubbing his forehead and swearing repeatedly underneath his breath as he dialled the number. Alex waited, unsure whether to stay or to leave.

"Hello, switchboard? This is Luke Sharpe...no, I don't usually work for you..._no_, I'm SAS..._no, I don't need the number for Brecon Beacons!_ Just...let Mrs. Jones know I won't be in – I'm ill – flu or something...yes, Mrs. Jones...I – oh, never mind." Wolf snapped the phone shut rather violently and threw it down on the bedside table again. "Waste of taxpayers' money, that switchboard..." His words trained off into a mutter as he took a gulp from a glass of water that was on the bedside table. It looked slightly cloudy; Alex wondered how long it had been there.

"You!" Wolf's head suddenly snapped up, staring at Alex, who involuntarily took a step backwards. "You...we need to talk," Wolf said, and started to get out of bed. He was still fully clothed from the night before, and his shirt was wrinkled out of shape. As he stood up, though, he squeezed his eyes shut and sat back down. "All right...we'll talk here. Last night – "

"I don't want to talk about it," Alex said abruptly.

"For God's sake, Cub!" Wolf's voice was hoarse, but his anger was still clear. There was a short pause as he took a few deep breaths and then raised his head to look at Alex again. "Look, I promised Fox I wasn't going to interrogate you. But last night, I was thinking – "

"As you were downing vodka?" Alex cut in. Wolf continued as though he hadn't heard.

"Your absences...they can't be sickness. And you're not the type to just skip school – "

"You've finally worked that one out, then," Alex muttered underneath his breath.

Wolf paused, surveying Alex. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was sticking up in every direction, and, frankly, he looked a mess. But somehow he still remained alert and watchful.

"Your absences from school _are_ something to do with MI6," he said.

"Yes." Alex was unperturbed; he knew Wolf had already worked that much out.

"And it started _after _your uncle died – in March. That was when you came to Brecon Beacons. I'd forgotten, really, when it was, but Eagle..." Wolf trailed off, and Alex caught something in his face – was it _pity?_ He swallowed and shifted his weight nervously. He hadn't _wanted_ this discussion; he'd wanted to be left alone. For as long as he didn't talk about it, Alex could _almost_ pretend he was normal.

"You've been working for MI6 all this time," Wolf stated. "Your absences from school – it's because you've been doing something for Special Operations."

"Yes." What else could Alex say?

"Did you get involved with MI6 because of your uncle?"

Alex almost flinched. He tried to avoid thinking about Ian these days – the way he'd trained him, almost set up his whole recruitment into MI6... Alex didn't know what Ian had intended for him, really. All he knew was that everything Ian had ever taught him – practically every interaction they'd ever had – now appeared to be the perfect training for a spy.

"Yes," he said again, shortly. "After he died."

"Wanted to follow in his footsteps?" Wolf gave a short laugh, but Alex didn't answer. Wolf surveyed him silently for a few seconds though, apparently satisfied that he'd finally got something out of Alex. "Just how many times have you been involved with SO, Cub?"

"Classified." Alex wanted out of this conversation – now. Thinking about Ian's role in this whole mess was starting to make him feel sick. Ever since Ian's death, his life had been turned inside out. Now things were getting even worse – Jack had gone, having had enough, and he was stuck here with an SAS soldier who thought Alex's involvement with MI6 was his business.

"What the – _classified?_" Wolf looked like he was about to explode – strangely reminiscent of Jackal the previous day, Alex thought. "You _live_ here now; I have a right to know what the hell I'm dealing with!"

"All right, then," Alex shot back. "If that's so important, why don't you tell me exactly what happened in Iraq and why K unit's still not back in training?"

Wolf's look of anger turned to one of utter fury. "That's _none _of your business," he snapped.

"Sorry, I thought we lived together now, you said." Alex's voice was cool. "I thought we _were_ each other's business...though funnily enough I don't remember that those were the words you used when I got here."

"Tell me what you've been doing since March," Wolf growled.

"Tell me what _you_ were doing in Iraq," Alex returned.

They'd reached a stalemate. Alex held Wolf's gaze, refusing to be intimidated. He didn't really believe he had a right to know what had happened to K unit, but, equally, he didn't feel that K unit had a right to know about him. He didn't want to think about everything he'd been through in the last eight months in the gruesome detail he _knew_ Wolf would want. His sleep patterns were only just beginning to return to normal as he gradually pushed the Snakehead mission to the back of his mind, along with all the others. Relieving them would make it worse all over again.

Wolf's jaw was clenching repeatedly as he stared at Alex, who could see the muscles tightening and releasing. Alex had to feel some pity for him. The man looked torn between fury, sheer curiosity and utter devastation. It was the last expression Alex saw in Wolf's eyes that made him stop. Iraq really _had_ been that bad. It hadn't just been Snake who had been hurt. Somewhere, somehow, something was cutting Wolf very deeply.

"Go," Wolf said after several long minutes of silence. His voice was quiet, but hard. "Leave."

Alex needed no encouragement. He broke his gaze away from Wolf and left without another word.

* * *

Ben came round later that afternoon.

Alex was in his room lying on his bed, listening to his iPod and trying to read _Measure for Measure_ for English. He remembered, he thought, going to see the play at the Globe theatre with Ian several years before, but he couldn't remember much of it. Then, of course, he hadn't had to analyse the play for 'themes of justice', either.

He heard the doorbell ring through his music, and he temporarily paused it, listening to Wolf open the front door. There were low voices which Alex couldn't make out, but when the voices got quieter – obviously moving away into a room – and he heard nothing for several minutes, he turned his music back on and continued to read. Just ten minutes later, however, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and he was forced to turn the iPod off, sit up and call, "Come in."

He assumed it would be Wolf, so it was a surprise to find Ben entering the room and closing the door behind him.

"Hey," Alex greeted.

"Hi." There was a weary note to Ben's voice, and his features looked tired, but he gave Alex an easy smile as he sat down on the desk chair. "How's it going?"

"All right." Alex shrugged, nodding to the book lying open next to him. "Cramming Shakespeare – not my idea of fun."

"Can't say it was ever mine, either – there was a reason I did Physical Sciences at university." Ben paused for a moment, and Alex waited. Clearly Ben had not stopped in to ask how his English studies were going. When he finally spoke, however, it was the last thing Alex had expected to come out of his mouth. "It's Eagle's birthday tomorrow."

"OK," Alex said, slightly taken aback. "Er...good?"

"He's – well, we're – all going to a restaurant tomorrow evening for it. Eagle's not a big one for birthdays, but he likes to go out to celebrate it, at least. He'd like it if you came. I just asked Wolf – he's coming," Ben added, as though this last piece of information would somehow persuade Alex to attend.

"Why would he want me there?" Alex said bluntly. "And more to the point, why are _you_ here asking Wolf and me, and not Eagle himself? Is it a surprise?"

"Not exactly..." Ben clasped his hands together and looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "He and Wolf had an argument last night. A big one. They're not speaking." As Alex opened his mouth, he continued quickly, "But he _does_ want Wolf to come tomorrow; I know he does. It could be a chance for them to sort out their differences once and for all. And he specifically told me to invite you."

"Why?" Alex asked again.

"I think he considers you to be a member of the team," Ben said. "Wants you there. I think it'd be nice if you came. Snake'll be there too. I don't believe Jackal will be coming."

Alex wanted to ask why, but something in Ben's face warned him not to. Still, Ben was waiting expectantly for his answer. Dinner with K unit was the last thing Alex felt like doing – he didn't want to be interrogated, he didn't want to be hassled, and even if he wasn't, he didn't want to sit on edge all night waiting for it to happen. On the other hand, he had no decent excuse not to attend. He sighed.

"Yeah, all right, I'll be there," he said. Ben looked delighted.

"Excellent. It's at seven o'clock – Wolf knows all the details."

"I don't think Wolf and I are on speaking terms," Alex cut in. Ben raised his eyebrows.

"Is this still after last night? Because I _did_ speak to him – "

"Yeah, I know," Alex said. He locked and unlocked his fingers, thinking about the conversation with Wolf. "He...well, he knows. Of course he knows. That – MI6 – why I miss so much school. He's asking questions. I – " Why did his voice catch in his throat _now?_ _Why?_ "I don't want to talk about it."

Ben held his gaze for a moment, before nodded curtly. "I understand. I'll talk to him again before I leave." He stood up again.

"No – don't," Alex said quickly. At Ben's expression, he continued. "We're not really on speaking terms, but we...came to a sort of agreement. I don't think he'll be asking again anytime soon."

Ben looked doubtful, but shrugged, and made his way towards the door. Having opened it, he paused, and spoke again. "Blunt asked after you this morning."

Alex's head snapped up from his book, but he was speechless. _Blunt _had asked after him?

"Yeah," Ben continued. "I told him you'd caught up with school and stuff; he seemed happy. Thought I'd let you know...it seemed unlike him." He gave Alex a half smile, and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Alex's heart was pounding painfully. He doubted Blunt had been making a casual, friendly enquiry. He didn't want to think about why instead the Head of Special Operations might have been asking about him.

* * *

Seven o'clock the following evening rolled around far too quickly for Alex's liking. He met Wolf rather awkwardly in the hallway at half-past six, dressed smartly but not overly so, unsure of where they were going to eat, but unwilling to ask Wolf, who had made it painfully clear at breakfast that they weren't speaking. Wolf barely spared him a glance as he shrugged on his coat and opened the front door, leaving Alex to close it as he went up the steps ahead.

They travelled by taxi to Piccadilly. Alex might have been surprised and wondered why Wolf didn't drive if he hadn't seen his guardian pouring himself several drinks an hour before. He was far from being heavily intoxicated, though clearly over the driving limit. He didn't say a word to Alex throughout the journey.

Eagle and Snake were already seated when they arrived. They were laughing together, but Eagle's laughter faded somewhat when he saw Wolf and Alex approaching, although he gave a curt nod to Wolf and smiled at Alex, waving them into seats. Ben arrived just behind them with an easy smile and an apology for being the last to arrive, and sat down next to Alex. Eagle passed around some menus.

They were mostly silent whilst they decided on food. Alex ordered a seafood risotto, but didn't feel particularly hungry. Wolf ordered a bottle of wine, and then a lasagne almost as an afterthought. This earned a quick glance from Ben, but Alex knew he was too professional to say anything.

"Thanks for this," Eagle said, as the waiter finished taking their orders, collected their menus and moved away. "I wasn't expecting..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ben said easily, leaning back in his seat. "It's your birthday; of course we wanted to come out with you."

"And, er...look, sorry about the other night," Wolf said. He sounded awkward, but he looked Eagle straight in the eye as he spoke. "It was stupid. Truce?"

"Truce," Eagle agreed, and looked almost happy.

Things passed smoothly until the food arrived, with Wolf, Eagle, Snake and Ben exchanging memories of their training sessions and exercises they'd completed. Alex stayed mostly silent, understanding few of the in-jokes between the unit, and content enough that he wasn't in the limelight. As the waiter served their main courses (they'd skipped the starter with Eagle declaring they should all save themselves for dessert), Eagle let out a sigh.

"It really feels like we're a real unit again," he said, looking around the table. He paused. "It's been a while since it's felt like that."

Wolf broke the uneasy silence by punching Ben on the arm as the waiter moved away. "Well, if Fox hadn't gone and _ditched _us for Blunt and Jones, we'd still be a real unit." He seemed much more at ease than Alex had seen him, though he couldn't tell if it was what he'd been drinking or the fact K unit did seem to be getting along much better tonight. Wolf winked at Ben to show he was joking, but Snake looked anxious.

"Maybe you should have invited Jackal," he said. "I know he's a bit of a bastard, but he _is _technically part of the unit. He does care about it. He's just a bit...volatile."

"It's my birthday," Eagle said stubbornly, taking a large mouthful of his food. "It's the one time of year you get to have all your own way, right? I don't want him here. You insist he's just 'a bit' volatile, you insist he's part of the team; I think the guy's crazy. Total inability to keep his temper under control – I don't know how he ended up in the SAS. I've certainly never felt like he was part of the team."

Alex picked up his knife and fork and started eating as Snake put down his own to reply to this.

"Whether you like it or not, though, he's still part of the team. We have to work together. Inviting him may have helped the team to bond."

Eagle snorted. "I'd much rather have Cub and Fox here instead."

"Cub and Fox won't get us back to training, though." Snake flashed the two of them a quick smile. "No offence, guys."

"None taken," Ben said, but Eagle was already speaking again.

"Treating Jackal like we're best buddies won't help," he argued. "It's _him_, not me. He acts like he's in charge – "

"He's not, though," Wolf said sharply.

"Not technically, but you let it happen," Eagle said, turning on Wolf. "Look at the way he interfered with Cub the other day – he doesn't even _know_ him, but you let him stand there and question – "

"Maybe that's enough," Ben interrupted. No one heard him.

"Well, you can't blame Jackal for taking the lead when the rest of us are a mess," Snake pointed out.

"Do you mind?" Eagle and Wolf said together. "We're not a mess!"

"This is the problem," Eagle continued. "It's not about 'being a mess' as you so delicately put it. It's about the fact you're always sticking up for Jackal – "

"Only because no one else does, and you and Wolf insist on calling him 'Jackass' instead. That's not the behaviour of a team!" Alex had never seen Snake angry, but his blue eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't particularly like him, but you can't see him the way you do forever. You just have to put your differences aside. Look how we treated Cub at training. That was wrong, right?"

Alex, having switched off as they'd started arguing, tried to focus his attention hearing his name again, but his brain felt slow and tired. Was the arguing wearing him down? He'd certainly had enough of it recently. He reached out and took a long gulp of water from his glass, wincing as Eagle continued the argument. Had he really thought K unit were getting along better this evening?

"I don't _sabotage_ Jackal," Eagle snapped. "I behave professionally. But I don't have to _like_ the man."

"Of course not, but behaving professionally includes trying to get back to training!" Snake sounded slightly desperate. "Besides," he said, rounding on Wolf, "if you weren't constantly picking fights with Eagle too – "

"I don't!" Wolf answered hotly. "It's not _my_ fault we're not back at training yet – "

Feeling his head start to pound, Alex leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand. Wouldn't they just _shut up? _He almost started at the angry thought – he rarely felt this aggressive. He reached for the glass of water again – maybe he was dehydrated? His hand missed the glass. He blinked several times, hardly able to believe he'd actually missed his water glass, and then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Actually, he wasn't feeling very well at all, now he came to think about it. His stomach was churning horribly, and his chest felt tight and painful. Was he ill?

"Well, now you've taken on a kid, I don't expect we'll be going back soon at all," Eagle was saying.

"That's not my fault, either – I _told_ Jones it'd be better to send him to Ben – "

Aware he was being discussed, but not making much sense of the conversation, Alex had had enough. He started to stand up, but Ben put a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from rising further.

"It's all right, they don't mean it," he said.

"No, it's all right...need...the toilet." Alex struggled to get the words out, but must have made some sense because he felt Ben's hand leave his shoulder and he shakily stood up. His legs felt weak.

"You all right?" he heard someone say. "You don't look very well – "

"'M Fine," Alex murmured, but as he tried to walk, his legs felt heavy. It was becoming difficult to breathe...he heard a thud and was dimly aware that it was himself hitting the ground. But he felt nothing...

* * *

"You all right?" Ben asked, standing up and going after Alex as the boy took a few shaky steps. He'd thought Alex hadn't looked entirely well for a good few minutes.

"'M Fine," Alex murmured, but as he turned to look at Ben, his eyes rolled back into his head, and, then, to Ben's horror, he collapsed to the ground. Ben dropped to his side, immediately feeling for his pulse, feeling his heart in his throat.

"Can I get some help here?" he shouted, his voice suddenly very loud in the silence that had fallen over the restaurant. "Call 999!"

There was a pulse, but it was weak and rapid. As Ben leaned his ear above Alex's mouth, checking for his breathing, Eagle dropped to his side.

"Let me," he said firmly, suddenly business-like. "I'm a paramedic. What happened?"

Ben moved out of the way as Eagle repeated the procedures, feeling dread as Eagle frowned. _Not Alex...not again._ "He seemed confused, sleepy...unfocused...said he was going to the toilet, and just collapsed."

"Has he been ill today, Wolf?" Eagle rapped out as he held Alex's eyelids open to check his pupils.

Ben whipped his head around to look at Wolf, who was standing stock still, staring at the scene. He'd gone very white, though Ben was sure his own expression mirrored his former teammate's. He seemed to gape, speechless, for several seconds before finding his voice.

"No...I don't know," he said. "I didn't see him much. He seemed fine when we arrived."

_I didn't see him much._ Ben hated Wolf at that moment. _Why _hadn't he taken more notice of Alex? He was supposed to be his guardian now. Why was the man constantly so self-absorbed these days? He tried to give himself a mental shake – Wolf wasn't to know this would happen – but he felt angry. This just wasn't _fair._ Why was Alex constantly in the centre of things?

"Could he have been drugged?" he asked Eagle in a low voice, trying to make sense of it. "He had all the classic symptoms..."

"Through his food, you mean?" Eagle said. "It's possible, but why? We're around – we'd only get in the way." He held up Alex's wrist again, pressing two fingers against it, feeling for a pulse.

"Overdose?" Snake – of course, it would only be Snake. "The Lorcet..."

"He's _not_ a drug addict, Snake, _for the last time,_" Ben snapped.

"Ambulance is on its way, sirs," their waiter said, hovering over the scene. Ben wished this had happened somewhere different, somewhere less public... "The operator's happy to speak to one of you?"

"Wolf, take it," Ben said, not even looking up, watching as Eagle frowned again, still feeling for Alex's pulse. He dropped Alex's wrist and leaned over him, checking for breathing.

"_Shit_," he said. "He's gone into cardiac arrest."

Ben's own heart almost stopped beating. He felt numb as he watched Eagle start CPR on Alex – _Alex_, a fourteen year-old boy, Cub, one of MI6's most effective agents. There was no way this was coincidence. He was vaguely aware of Snake snatching the phone from Wolf, who had dropped to his knees next to Ben and was completely ashen.

"Hello? We need an ambulance _now_ – he's gone into cardiac arrest – _no, I can't fucking wait patiently, _he's _fourteen_."

Ben's hearing seemed to fade and tunnel vision took over as he watched Eagle – two breaths, thirty chest compresses. They'd done it so many times in training, yet he'd never had to use it. He felt sick. Dimly he remembered being told not to expect people to respond to CPR. How much longer would the ambulance be? _If defibrillation is delayed for more than ten minutes, chance of survival drop to virtual zero_, he remembered from an SAS medical lecture. How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes? Ben felt sick.

"Paramedics! Make way, please!"

Ben watched the scene unfold in slow motion – two paramedics in uniform dropping to Alex's side, Snake and Eagle pulling Ben and Wolf aside, the portable defibrillator coming out, Alex being shocked, Alex being shocked again, an oxygen mask – did that mean he was _alive?_ – a stretcher, Alex being taken away as they all followed.

"_One _of you in the ambulance – the rest follow behind," one of the paramedics said as the other jumped into the ambulance next to Alex. Wolf stepped forward, though Ben wanted to throw himself in front of his former teammate – Alex was like his little brother...

He watched numbly as the ambulance sped away, sirens screaming.

* * *

Less than a minute after the ambulance had departed the restaurant, and Ben, Snake and Eagle had raced after it in Eagle's car, two black vans pulled up in their place. The passenger door of the first one opened and a man in a grey, but inexpensive – perhaps Marks and Spencer? – suit and carrying a black briefcase stepped out. He adjusted his tie, pulled his collar as if it were a little too tight, and walked briskly into the restaurant.

As expected, the scene was not quite one of chaos, but it was disturbed; there was still a space where tables and chairs had been cleared – probably where Rider had been – and people were talking loudly, but not eating. The man caught some of their conversation as he went by.

"How do you suppose it happened?"

"Oh, I hope he's all right – "

"He only looked young, didn't he?"

The man in the grey suit cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, "I'm afraid this restaurant is being evacuated. Please collect your belongings. Your orders will not need to be paid for; we apologise for the inconvenience."

Silence had fallen while he spoke – after all, he _did_ look official – but now the chattering started up again. People started to rise, putting on their coats and scarves, but still complaining loudly about it:

"Absolutely disgraceful."

"We're being asked to _leave?_"

"Do you suppose it's the Food Standards Agency?"

"Here! You can't do this!" The man in the grey suit turned as a round man in a waistcoat approached him. He already knew from his research on the way over that this man was Frank Dudley, the owner of the restaurant. He already knew Dudley's background, knew how he could be manipulated.

"Excuse me, sir," he said smoothly. "We have had reports that this restaurant is falling below the standards required by us."

"And who are you?" Dudley sneered.

"John Crawley, Food Standards Agency," the man said, flashing his ID so quickly that Dudley couldn't possibly have had a chance to look at it, but the owner's face drained of colour anyway.

"I – I – see, I – "

"We'd like everyone out of here as soon as possible," Crawley said. "Including yourself. I need this area cleared in less than five minutes."

The area was clear in three. Even Frank Dudley himself backed out, still stammering.

"When – when will you contact me?" he asked, hovering in the doorway, as the back doors of the two black vans opened and around a dozen people jumped out, carrying various bits of equipment.

"That," Crawley said gravely, "remains to be seen. We will be in touch regarding the fate of this restaurant – again."

Dudley practically fled. Crawley didn't spare him a glance as he turned to face the scene that was unfolding in the now-abandoned restaurant. Dudley was a waste of time. He'd already failed three inspections from the Food Standards Agency. It made this too easy.

MI6 operatives were entering the restaurant, completely in silence, grim-faced, knowing what they had to do.

"Which table, Crawley?" the leader of the team asked. He was carrying a box of test tubes and a complicated-looking piece of technical equipment, the exact purpose of which Crawley could only guess.

"At the back, furthest right," Crawley said. Several people ran to that table and immediately began taking samples of the food and drink, whilst others started taking samples from other tables. "He was sitting second from the right," he called, and then turned away.

"_Don't mess up," _had been Blunt's words. _"This could be absolutely crucial to Rider's life_._ I will hold you personally responsible if the team fails to deliver vital evidence."_

Crawley knew the team was good. But this was a race against time. Were they _that_ good?

* * *

Wolf had sort of convinced himself in the last few days that Cub – and Cub's opinion – meant nothing to him. The kid might be a highly effective MI6 operative at just fourteen, he might have saved his backside at training by throwing him out of the aeroplane, but in the end, he was just a nosey brat who wanted more than he was willing to give. Wolf wished Jones had never come up with this idea. In fact, he wished he'd never met Cub at all.

Yet, standing just inside the entrance of St. Dominic's hospital, watching Cub being rushed away on a gurney, he realised he'd been wrong. Cub _did _mean something to him. He was part of K unit; it was as if it had been any of the others. Wolf's stomach flipped as he remembered finding Cub lying at the bottom of the mountain in France. This felt worse. Then Cub had been the boy they'd trained with for two weeks, and then disappeared. Now he was...what exactly? A real person? Someone he actually _cared_ about? This was nearly on a par with the incident with Sn –

_No. _Wolf brutally pushed the thought away before it could form and engulf him – again. Cub. He needed to think about Cub. Cub could d –

"Wolf?"

Wolf's head jerked up as the doors burst open and Snake, Eagle and Fox rushed towards him. They all had the look of intense stress and worry about them, but Fox – Fox was the only one who looked anywhere near how Wolf felt. He found himself wondering what the hell Fox had been through with Cub to make him feel so close to him.

"How is he?" Snake asked urgently, sitting down next to Wolf.

Wolf shrugged. "I don't know – they just took him away – "

"Let's go to the waiting room," Eagle said, voice firm. He sounded so collected, and Wolf wondered how he could be, before being reminded again that Eagle was a paramedic while they were on leave. He hadn't been like this in Iraq – or just afterwards – Wolf thought as they followed Eagle to the waiting room. Had working as a paramedic improved they way he could cope with these situations? Or _was_ this his way of coping with everything – to try to numb himself to it all? Wolf wished he could.

They were silent for a good fifteen minutes in the otherwise empty waiting room before Ben broke it.

"What happened?" he said. His voice was hoarse, but he sounded frustrated. "He was fine at the start of the meal."

It was Eagle who answered first. "If he wasn't so young, I'd say he had exactly the symptoms of a heart attack. Collapse...rapid cardiac arrest..."

"He's a teenager," Wolf said through gritted teeth. And therein lay what bothered him so much. Cub was just a kid. Why did he have so much bad luck?

_Because of MI6_, a little voice answered in the back of his mind. _Because of MI6..._

His thoughts were interrupted by the door of the waiting room opening. He jumped up, only to be greeted with the grim face of Tulip Jones. Worry turned to anger.

"_What_ are you doing here?" he snapped.

Mrs. Jones barely blinked. "I was informed," she said coolly.

"I'm his guardian," Wolf growled.

"Actually, we're his guardian. You're just someone we're using to act as our agent," Mrs. Jones returned. Her eyes flickered around the room, and then back to Wolf, who was feeling at that moment that Mrs. Jones was so inhuman she might not count as a woman, and he would be therefore justified in hitting her. "Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing," Ben spoke up. "We haven't been here long. Has the analysis team found –"

"Not yet," Mrs. Jones interrupted firmly.

"So this is something to do with MI6," Eagle said. Wolf noticed him watching Mrs. Jones carefully, with something akin to hatred. "What – you've taken over his life or something?"

A slight twitch above Mrs. Jones' eye was the only sign she was affected in any way by this accusation. "We don't know what's happened to Alex," she answered. "We're here to help him."

"He probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for you!" Wolf said loudly. He clenched his fists, and struggled to keep control of his temper. The majority of a bottle of wine he'd consumed wasn't helping, and he knew it. "You've yanked him out of school, taken advantage of him, sent him into suicidal situations – remember Point Blanc? _I _was against him going back into that school!"

"Only because you underestimated him." Mrs. Jones' voice was calm. "Alex is not here because of us. Alex is here because he's who he is."

"And what's that – MI6's lackey?" Snake asked.

_No, his uncle's nephew, _Wolf thought. He remembered his conversation with Cub the previous day - was all this truly down to his uncle? That had seemed to be what Cub had been suggesting. Is _this _what Cub's uncle had wanted for him? Wolf saw Mrs. Jones swallow. "Alex is an exceptional boy. I'll admit we were involved in France. But Alex himself often seeks out trouble. In fact, this is unlikely to have anything to do with us."

"So you're here to _help_ him." Eagle sounded sceptical, and Wolf had to agree. He'd seen Cub go into cardiac arrest – someone was to blame. And it wasn't any of them. It was the fault of the woman standing in front of him. Wolf wasn't sure why he was so sure all this was to do with MI6? Was it Tulip Jones' sudden appearance? How suddenly Cub had collapsed? How angry he already felt about the way MI6 was using Cub with no regard for his education?

Thankfully for the Deputy, Wolf thought, her phone rang before she could answer. Sparing Wolf just a quick glance, she held it to her ear.

"I see. They've been informed? Thank you. You've done well, Crawley."

She snapped the phone shut and put it back in her pocket, but said nothing. Wolf felt like shaking her.

"Well?" he burst out. "What?"

Mrs. Jones remained silent for several long seconds, before raising her head to meet Wolf's gaze.

"The analysis team has found Alex's food was tampered with," she said eventually. "No one else's. Alex was targeted by people who were determined to kill him."

* * *

A/N: I feel like this could be so much better. But it's late, it's Christmas Eve, and I think if I don't post now I never will. I may repost at a later date – we'll see. Please review and let me know if you thought it was terrible. And a very merry Christmas to everyone!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: OK, I'm sorry, guys, I KNOW it's been a long wait. This term was hectic – ordinary terms are nightmarish, but this one – I got very ill in the middle, a close relative died, and on top of that, I still had to keep up with the work! Thank goodness it's the holiday. But, anyway, I definitely haven't abandoned this fic, and I do know where it's going – it's just finding the time to write it; I tend to write best if I write 5000 words at once, rather than 300 words here and there. Hope you enjoy the chapter, anyway – it's been nice to see I've still had new readers, despite the lack of updates, so please review and tell me if you're enjoying it!

* * *

Chapter 11

"_Alex's food was tampered with. No one else's. Alex was targeted by people who were determined to kill him."_

The bottom of Wolf's stomach seemed to drop out and hit the ground as a flood of emotions hit him at once. _Someone tried to kill Cub._ It was easy enough prying into Cub's life, trying to squeeze answers out of Cub's tight lips, trying to satisfy his own curiosity – just wanting to know what Cub was up to – but this...The implications hit him with brute force. _This is what Cub's life is about_. This was what he was mixed up in.

Wolf jerked his head around to glance quickly at the others. Eagle looked shell-shocked, horrified. He'd been running a hand through his hair, but had stopped halfway and was now just clutching his hair tightly. Snake was twisting his hands, looking serious, but staring at Mrs. Jones like this was her fault. _It is._ Fox...Fox had gone white at the news, but somehow didn't look as shocked as the others. _He knows more than he's let on_,_ of course_, a little voice reminded Wolf. He made a mental note to press Fox for answers later. _For now..._

"By whom?" he bit out, not even attempting to keep his temper under control.

"We don't have that information just now," Mrs. Jones said calmly. Wolf once again had an overwhelming urge to throttle her.

"How can you be so indifferent?" he spat. He pointed at her. "This is _your_ fault; a kid's been _poisoned_ in an attempt to _kill_ him, and all you do is stand there and do nothing!" His eyes narrowed. "Is this what always happens? I seem to remember in France you took a good hour to show up after we'd got him to the hospital – "

"I got there as soon as I could!" For the first time, Mrs. Jones seemed rattled. Something akin to emotion – guilt? – flickered over her face before the mask was firmly back in place. "I'm doing all I can," she said. "The doctors are the only ones who can help Alex." She turned to look at Eagle. "You saved his life. Without that CPR he would have died. Thank you."

"For what? Saving your precious child-agent so you can use him again?" Eagle's tone was bitter. "No problem."

"Eagle!" Mrs. Jones sounded – and looked – shocked. "This is Alex's life we're talking about!"

"He's right, though," Snake said quietly. "It's not like you're here for any other reason, right? If you cared about him, he wouldn't have got mixed up with you in the first place."

Mrs. Jones didn't answer this. Wolf swallowed and looked at Fox, who had remained silent. He still looked pale, but his face was a mask, the same as Mrs. Jones'. Was that was MI6 did to you? Turned you into an emotionless machine? Wolf shivered as he remembered where he'd seen that expression before. Cub.

_He's lethal_. Eagle's words after seeing Cub apparently 'in action' came back to him. Emotionless, a refusal to tell them anything, even when they _knew_ they were right, almost lethal. And now poisoned by strangers. Did any of them really know Cub? He tried to remember the boy who they'd trained with. Mostly inoffensive, other than the odd cutting comment. Despite himself, Wolf had been impressed with Cub's ability to keep up most of the time. Other than being exceptionally fit for his age, however, Cub seemed like an ordinary boy. That wasn't the impression he'd got over the last few weeks. Wolf struggled to piece together Cub's identity.

"You've taken over his life," he said at last. "How did he end up living with me? So you could keep a better eye on him?"

"His uncle left him in our care," Mrs. Jones replied, her voice quiet. "We would have allowed him to stay with his housekeeper had she not moved back to America."

"And why did she do that?"

Mrs. Jones opened her mouth, but at that moment the door of the waiting room opened and all five of them snapped their heads round to look at the doctor who entered.

"Evening, gentlemen, Mrs. Jones," the doctor said, closing the door behind him. Wolf wondered briefly how the doctor knew Mrs. Jones' name, before realising that St. Dominic's was where they took everyone from Special Forces and she was probably here to visit at least every other week. "I'm Dr. Duffy. I'm in charge of Alex's care – again," he added, looking to Mrs. Jones. Wolf narrowed his eyes at this, but remained silent. However many questions he had, they had to wait.

"How is he?" Fox's voice sounded weak – alien to Wolf's ears.

The doctor took a deep breath, and Wolf immediately wanted to beat the answer out of him. Why did doctors always think it was all right to drag things out rather than getting to the point?

"Alex was poisoned with cyanide through ingestion," he said slowly. "It's very serious...death can occur in minutes. He was lucky to have CPR administered to him and that the paramedics arrived when they did."

Wolf shut his eyes briefly. Cub had gone into cardiac arrest in the ambulance again on the way to the hospital.

"He's going to be fine?" Mrs. Jones questioned.

Dr. Duffy paused again. "We can't say for sure yet," he said at last. "An antidote is being administered, his stomach pumped...but cyanide can cause lasting brain damage. We'll have to wait until he regains consciousness to find out how serious it is." He looked grim. "I'm sorry, you'll have to wait for a while longer. We'll fetch you when he's awake."

He left the room quickly – maybe it was being in the presence of so many potentially dangerous people that made him nervous – but the door closed loudly after him. None of them looked at one another for several long minutes. Eventually Eagle broke the silence.

"Was that good news or bad news?" he asked.

"Alex is alive," Fox said quietly. "That's all they can give us for now."

Wolf looked at Mrs. Jones. She looked very uneasy as she took a peppermint from her bag and unwrapped it, though the action itself might have given the impression of indifference. Her eyes looked up for a second and met Wolf's gaze.

"All we can do is wait," she told him. "Better sit down; this could take a while."

_Had she been here before, waiting for an agent to come out the other side of a poisoning?_ Wolf wondered. He sat down, slowly, avoiding her gaze now. Was Cub just another agent to her?

* * *

_This is the worst I've ever felt._

That was the first thought that occurred to Alex as he slowly became aware that he could _think_ again. His mind felt thick and foggy – thinking was like wading through treacle – but he didn't try to claw his way out of it for now. He felt terrible enough without making himself more conscious of the state he was in.

His throat felt raw and his stomach tight and painful. In fact...he felt painful _everywhere._ Like he'd been twisted and wrung out several times over. What had happened? Where _was_ he?

Then, without warning, he felt a prick in his arm. So unexpected it was, so reminiscent of too many previous situations he'd been in, that, against his previous judgement, his eyes flew open and he found himself face to face with an all-too-familiar nurse holding a needle.

"Diana Meacher," he croaked out. "I wasn't." And then a hacking cough started and the young nurse dropped the needle. He felt a cup being pressed into his hand.

"Ice chips," she told him, and, ignoring his pain, he sat up and stuffed several into his mouth at once.

They were instantly soothing, the cool liquid slipping slowly down his throat. Gasping, he jerked his head up to look at the nurse again.

"Thanks," he said, his voice sounding more normal but still hoarse. He set the cup back down on the table. "Er...what am I doing here?" He looked around. "This _is_ St. Dominic's, right?"

Diana Meacher nodded, but now seemed speechless. She backed away from him as though he was a ticking bomb. "I...have to go and fetch someone," she said, and fled from the room.

She hadn't even picked up the needle.

Sighing, Alex lay back down in bed, hoping she'd gone to fetch a doctor – someone who would tell him what had happened, or at the very least give him some very strong painkillers. He put one hand against his head, which was pounding painfully, and closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was the restaurant...

"Alex, you're awake."

Alex didn't need to open his eyes to recognise the voice, but he did anyway, and was faced with the solid figure of Mrs. Jones. She was dressed in a dark trouser suit and a long black coat – Alex thought she might have worn the same outfit to Ian's funeral.

She closed the door behind her, and approached Alex's bed. He felt uneasy – the last time they'd been in this situation, he'd just been shot by Scorpia.

"Someone tried to poison you," she said. "Cyanide. We're working to find out who was behind it."

_Poison_. Alex recalled how sick he'd started to feel during the meal...like he'd been drugged, but more painful...

"You mean you don't know?" he croaked out. "This is the second time this has happened under your watch – " Mrs. Jones put up a hand to stop him.

"I know, Alex, and I'm sorry. I've spoken to Alan, but we've agreed there's not anything we can do until we know who's behind it."

"Sc – "

"We made a deal with them," she interrupted. "Scorpia's a terrorist organisation – it can never be entirely trusted – but we made them a deal they couldn't refuse. It's not in their best interests to go back on our agreement."

Alex slumped back against the pillows in defeat.

"We're taking extra precautions, of course – there'll be guards outside your door while you're here, and we're doing everything we can to find out who's behind this. You should be safe at Wolf's." She paused. "I'm sorry, Alex, I know you wanted nothing to do with us anymore. But danger seems to follow you." She checked her watch and then moved towards the door again, pausing before exiting. "We'll be in touch." She left.

_We'll be in touch._

Alex shivered.

A doctor came in after that, followed by Nurse Meacher, who resumed her work with the needle and attached an IV to his arm. Then she, too, left and Alex was left alone once again.

"Cub?"

His head jerked up again as his codename was said, and wanted to groan out loud. _Wolf_. The last person he wanted to see right now, except perhaps Alan Blunt.

His guardian – though he still had some trouble thinking of Wolf like that – stepped into the room the same way Mrs. Jones had done, but there was an air of awkwardness about him. He closed the door softly behind him, and approached Alex, but, unlike Mrs. Jones, took a seat next to Alex's bed. Did that mean he'd be here for a while?

They sat in silence for a long minute before Wolf eventually spoke.

"You all right?" he asked gruffly, though he avoided looking at Alex.

"No." Alex's tone was blunt. "I've been poisoned. I feel terrible."

A frown crossed Wolf's face for the briefest of seconds, but he didn't comment. Instead he said, "So someone's trying to kill you."

"Looks that way," Alex said dryly, staring up at the ceiling.

"You don't seem too concerned about it. This happen to you often?" Wolf joked, but Alex stared at him, and the slight smile faded from Wolf's face. "Mind telling me what's going on, here? Jones was pretty silent about it. All I know is that someone tried to poison you and now you've got two armed guards standing outside your room, so they're clearly worried it's going to happen again. Why would someone want to kill you?"

"I don't know, all right?" Alex snapped. He felt tired and irritable. "I've annoyed some people before; maybe this is their way of saying they don't like me."

"You've annoyed people to the point they'd want to _kill_ you?" Wolf looked momentarily shocked.

Alex shrugged, and found the pain was receding slightly – what _was_ the IV giving him, exactly? "You know I've been involved with MI6," he said. "I'm bound to annoy someone. I mean, Mrs. Stellenbosch wasn't exactly my greatest fan, was she?"

Wolf's lips twitched, but then he looked serious again. "Cub...what exactly have you been doing with MI6? This isn't an attempt to satisfy my curiosity now," he said quickly, as Alex opened his mouth, furious, "but if someone's trying to kill you...I need to know what I'm up against. I'm supposed to be protecting you. That's the only reason MI6 placed you with me."

"You can't help," Alex said flatly. "MI6 don't even know who's behind it."

"What if it's someone you've annoyed before? You just said – "

"I know, but it's pretty impossible," Alex interrupted. As Wolf opened his mouth to argue, he continued. "Those who I've got on the wrong side of are either dead or...agreements have been reached." He stared out of the adjacent window for a few minutes after this. It was dark outside, but white snowflakes floated past his window. You could forget the outside world, in hospital. It was so sterile, and the same everywhere you looked. Eventually he tore his eyes from the window to look at Wolf, who had yet to answer. He was looking at Alex with something akin to shock on his face.

"I can't believe this," the man said. "It's not just a case of you doing a few observations for MI6, is it? You – you're in _really_ deep, aren't you?"

"Not anymore," Alex replied, and returned to staring out of the window. "Not if I can help it."

* * *

Wolf returned to his flat at seven o'clock the next morning, still dressed in the same clothes from the night before. Cub had dropped off to sleep very quickly after their conversation – Wolf could hardly blame him; if the kid felt half as terrible as he looked, he needed the rest – but Wolf stayed through the night. He wasn't really sure why; maybe he thought watching Cub sleep would bring him some inspiration on what made the kid tick. It hadn't. All Wolf knew was that he'd seen a fourteen year-old poisoned because someone wanted to kill him for a specific reason and that Cub had woken up, barely batted an eyelid, and accepted it all like this was something that happened all the time.

That's what was bothering Wolf the most. The sheer _acceptance_.

He shut the front door after him, dropped his keys on the table in the hall and entered the kitchen, putting the kettle on. It was probably about time he slept, rather than filling himself with caffeine. But sleep was the last thing he felt like doing.

He returned to thinking about Cub once he was sat at the table, steaming mug in hand. The truth was, he was worried. It might have surprised him slightly to find he was worried about a kid he never even wanted to take care of, but waiting for news about Cub at St. Dominic's, he'd felt like he was waiting for news about any one of his team. And even though the doctor had said Cub would be just fine, Wolf still felt some responsibility – like he should have prevented it, and certainly that he should prevent it from happening again. Yet how was he supposed to, if he didn't even know what he was up against?

He growled in frustration, clenching the fist that wasn't clutching the coffee mug. Of course, it was exactly the way he felt about the rest of K unit. As leader, he was supposed to stop his team from getting hurt. He was supposed to protect them. And most of all, he was supposed to keep them together. He had failed – and was still failing – on all counts. Now he was failing with Cub too.

Yet unlike K unit, Cub wasn't falling to pieces. Because, hard as it was to admit, Wolf knew the team was in trouble. They were arguing. They couldn't agree. They were all worried about each other, but wouldn't let one another close enough to help. None of them could deal with what had happened or the fear that it would happen again.

But Cub had just laid in bed, spoken about the whole matter quite rationally, as though it were perfectly understandable that someone would want to hurt him, even made a small joke about it. He hadn't seemed at all perturbed that it might happen again; he'd been more concerned with informing Wolf that he couldn't help. Wolf supposed, if Cub were involved as deeply with MI6 as he seemed to be, it was an occupational hazard. Yet the same was also true of the SAS. So why could a fourteen year-old cope with something like this, but K unit was falling apart over something of equal significance?

And then, indeed, there was the whole matter of Cub being involved with MI6 in the first place.

Wolf clutched his mug tighter, thinking through what he knew about Cub and Special Operations. He knew Cub had been 'recruited', so to speak, after his uncle's death, that his uncle had also been a spy, and that he'd been repeatedly involved with MI6 – at least his absences from school seemed to suggest as much. He also knew, now, that his work for MI6 was more dangerous than he'd previously anticipated. He'd assumed the incident in France was just a data-collection mission gone wrong. Now he wasn't so sure.

_He'd be the most successful agent we've ever had..._

And now Cub had been poisoned. A fourteen year-old. Has this happened before?

Wolf felt uneasy. Just what _was_ he doing for MI6? Taking care of a teenager who had no relatives left because of MI6? Or keeping tabs on their best agent until they wanted to use him again?

He finished his coffee and then went to fetch the phone. He hadn't slept, but he needed to talk to the others. Something needed to be done. They needed to protect Cub from MI6.

* * *

Alex felt a lot better later that day, when Tom dropped by.

His friend arrived just after four o'clock, just as Ben was leaving. The older man had just stood up from where he'd been sitting.

"Don't worry," he was saying in a low voice, "I'll talk to Wolf. He's not just being nosey now – I think he's angry that something like this was allowed to happen. He's questioning Blunt and Jones' moral code."

"I wish he wouldn't," Alex said. "I'm trying to leave it all behind. I don't _want_ him getting angry on my behalf. I just want to be normal."

"_Ha_, you've never been normal, Alex."

Recognising the familiar voice, Alex's head snapped around to see his best friend standing in the doorway, holding a bunch of grapes that looked suspiciously half-eaten and a wilting bunch of flowers marked 'half-price'.

"Thought you might need some company other than that of government agents," Ben said with a wink. "I'll see you tomorrow, Alex." He slipped past Tom before Alex had a chance to thank him.

Tom came in, threw the grapes and the flowers down on the bedside table, sat down on the chair Ben had just vacated, and put his feet up on Alex's bed.

"So what was it this time?" he asked. "Assassins? Ninjas? Bad guys trying to destroy the world again? You get in their way?"

Alex couldn't help grinning, despite the serious reality of the situation. "Not exactly," he said. "Ever seen that Agatha Christie film – Sparkling Cyanide...?"

* * *

If Alan Blunt had been the type of man to pace, he might have done so at this particular moment.

Instead he sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, fiddling with a single staple with one hand. Mrs. Jones, sat on the other side of the desk watching him, knew better than to think it was just her superior being slightly fidgety. This was a sign – and probably the only sign – that Alan Blunt ever gave of stress. She also knew better than to ask him what was on his mind. Of course she already knew.

"Why didn't we see this coming?" her superior asked eventually. Mrs. Jones had been asking herself the same question since the previous evening.

"There's no way we could have known, Alan," she said. "We still don't know who's done this. No one's claiming responsibility."

"Well, no one would," Alan Blunt snapped, and finally dropped the staple to stand up and stare out of the window, his back to her. "Who's going to admit to trying to kill a child – and failing? Especially because, since they failed, they're likely to try it again."

Mrs. Jones kept her face blank, but couldn't quite mask the alarm in her voice. "You think they will?"

"I think there's a good chance." The Head of Special Operations paused. "We don't know for certain until we know who's behind this."

"Do you think it's connected to what Alex saw last – "

"There are no coincidences," Alan Blunt said, his voice monotonous, repeating what Mrs. Jones suspected was his one belief in the world. Suddenly he turned back to Mrs. Jones. "Get anyone we can spare working on this – I want to know who did this. In the meantime, get me a full report on Agent Daniels' condition and fitness levels." As Mrs. Jones stood up to leave, he spoke again. "I also want an update on K unit's status," he said. "All their recent therapy reports included."

Mrs. Jones simply nodded. She had the sense not to ask why. As she closed Alan Blunt's door behind her, however, she couldn't help but feel that all this wasn't necessarily in Alex's best interests, no matter what she told herself.

It was therefore in some senses a relief when her door crashed open five minutes after she had sat down behind her desk and selected her next peppermint. It was Wolf, of course – who else wouldn't bother to knock? - and from the look in his eyes and the way he leaned over her desk, he was quite clearly furious. At least someone was concerned about Alex's welfare. As he opened his mouth to speak, she cut across him.

"Good afternoon, Wolf," she said. "Would you like to take a seat? And would you mind shutting the door?"

Wolf stared at her for a few seconds, before grunting and acquiescing to her request. Once he was sat down – much as Mrs. Jones had predicted – he seemed outwardly calmer, suddenly silent and unwilling to speak first. Mrs. Jones waited patiently.

"I'm not interested in what your dealings with Cub have been in the past," he began after a long silence. "I should care, but I don't. What I do care about is the fact you seem to have put Cub under my protection so you have easy access to him. I don't want that to be the case."

"Would you prefer I moved him?" Mrs. Jones asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"No. But I want reassurance that K unit eventually goes back to training that you're not going to send him off on some godforsaken mission. I don't want Cub returned to us in a box – and, dammit, that very nearly happened yesterday." Wolf was struggling to keep his temper under control, but he was keeping it. Was this a sign of improvement? Mrs. Jones wondered. She was silent for a few long seconds, digesting Wolf's request.

"Do you anticipate K unit returning to training soon?" she asked, clasping her hands together in front of her.

"I don't know, do _you?"_ Wolf returned.

"It's a possibility," she said, thinking of Alan Blunt's words to her not fifteen minutes before. "And, as you say, you will go back at some point, sooner or later." She shuffled some papers around on her desk, as though thinking of what to do with Alex. "Would you agree to Alex living with Ben Daniels while you were away training, perhaps? He's out of field work currently. He and Alex get along very well, as I'm sure you know."

Wolf seemed to digest this for a few minutes, before nodding curtly, and standing up to leave.

"I mean it, though, Jones," he said before he left. "Cub's a member of K unit. _I don't want him sent on suicide missions._ Or any sort of mission, without my approval. Got it?"

"With all due respect, Wolf, Alex isn't SAS."

"He shouldn't be MI6, either," Wolf spat. "He's just a child."

"I know," Mrs. Jones said, trying to sound kindly, "and we've tried to use Alex as little as possible. Alex has made his feelings towards us quite clear, I assure you; he wants nothing to do with us."

"Just make sure you listen to him," Wolf growled, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.

Mrs. Jones waited until the door was closed behind him before closing her eyes briefly and clenching her right fist for a few seconds. Of course she knew what Alan Blunt was planning, and she was powerless to stop it – but she hated being forced to engineer the process. Alex didn't want anything to do with them. Yet he couldn't seem to get away.

She opened her eyes and found her gaze inevitably wandering over to the single photo that sat on her desk facing her – her children. They looked happy and carefree – not a worry in the world.

"Sorry, Alex," she allowed herself to whisper, before unclenching her fist, pulling several files towards her and getting back to her job. Because that was what she was there to do. Caring wasn't her business.

* * *

The rest of the day – and the next – seemed to be filled with a long line of visitors to see Alex – mainly K unit on repeat, who never explicitly asked questions about his life in MI6 but nonetheless tried to get him to talk about it.

"So, how many times have you been in hospital?" Eagle had tried to inquire the previous evening.

"Is this the closest to death you've ever been, Cub?" questioned Snake, apparently abandoning all subtlety.

Wolf had been strangely silent on the matter, but a hard look had come into his eyes, and Alex wasn't entirely sure what it meant. He didn't seem to be angry with Alex, particularly, but he was certainly angry about _something._

In a way, it was nice not to feel alone in hospital, like he had so many times before, but in another, he made him miss Jack terribly. She'd always visited him if he was in London, armed with sugary food, entertainment (even if it was occasionally his homework) and good humour. The few times he'd been alone and awake (he couldn't seem to get past this feeling of exhaustion) in the last couple of days, he'd very nearly picked up the phone to call Jack in America. Just to chat. The second morning in hospital, he'd even got so far as dialling her number and letting it ring twice before he abruptly ended the call. It wasn't fair, to ring Jack from hospital. She'd only feel guilty.

_Perhaps she should have felt a bit guiltier, _a nasty little voice in Alex's head said as he set his mobile down on the bedside table. _Then you'd still be living in Ian's house with her, instead of stuck with Wolf and permanently in MI6's clutches._

A knock at the door, however, tugged Alex out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Sabina standing awkwardly in the doorway, fiddling with a strand of her hair with one hand.

"Hey," Alex greeted her, moving a book from the chair next to the bed as she came into the room, so that she could sit down. She entered slowly, her movements hesitant as she lowered herself into the chair, and didn't speak for several long seconds.

"Tom rang me," she said at last. "You look...better than I thought you were going to."

"I'd take that as a compliment, but somehow I suspect it's an improvement from a very low base," Alex returned dryly. Sabina gave a slight smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"I think I'd forgotten what your life was like," she said. "I'd convinced myself you were normal."

Alex felt a pang at that, but forced it down. He _wanted_ to be normal. He was trying to be. His head jerked up as Sabina's hand covered his.

"I wasn't having a go at you," she said gently. "It's just weird to think my..." She faltered for a second, and then continued. "That one of my...friends is like a young James Bond with none of the perks but with _all_ of the downsides and more."

Alex ignored the discomfort over their relationship. He didn't think of himself as her boyfriend, and it was probably better for her if he wasn't. "What, you think there's a distinct lack of attractive people on my missions? I thought Damian Cray was _hot._"

"_Hey_, he was; that's why I had such problems believing he was the bad guy!" Sabina exclaimed. She seemed easier now, having reassured herself he was all right. "It's the same problem I have with _you_," she continued, pointing a finger at Alex. "Attractive – definitely worthy of being Bond – but _impossible_ to pin down, and as a consequence, impossible to judge as a good guy or a bad guy."

Something about what she said didn't quite seem to flow logically. Alex cocked his head, hearing something odd in her tone. "You're comparing me to Damian Cray?" he asked, keeping his voice even.

"No!" Sabina threw her hands up in the air and fell back into her seat. "Boys!"

"Er..."

"I haven't heard from you since you left mine after you stayed the night," she said, rolling her eyes and folding her arms. "You didn't return my calls _or_ my texts."

Alex stared at her for a full five seconds before he erupted into laughter. Sabina's arms did not unfold and she looked unimpressed.

"I'm serious!" she insisted. "You're impossible to pin down. _Tom_ had to tell me you were in hospital."

"Ben had to tell Tom in fairness," Alex protested, but Sabina was already talking again.

"I needed someone in the last few days, Al. My mum..."She cleared her throat. "My mum was taken into hospital yesterday morning."

Once again Alex stared. "You didn't say in your messages."

"No, Alex, because I don't want you to be around only when something bad happens. I wanted you to talk to me because...because you wanted to." She paused.

"Of course I wanted to." Alex felt perplexed, completely taken aback as to where this had come from. It's true he _had_ received a couple of messages from her, and that he hadn't replied, but he'd had other things going on – Wolf's insistence on pressing him for detailed answers about his history with MI6, for example. Now he thought about it, however, he realised he hadn't spoken to Sabina since she'd let him stay – not even a phone call to say thank you. And after Sabina had been so embarrassed about her mother's behaviour... "Sorry," he said quietly. "Stuff was going on."

Sabina sighed. "I know. Stuff's _always_ going on with you. You can't help it."

She stayed for a while, telling him about Liz Pleasure, and how she was almost certain they would be staying in England permanently now. Ordinarily Alex might have been thrilled, and he liked having Sabina around, but he realised now what it meant. Sabina was beginning to depend on him – not dangerously, not obsessively, but she needed Alex the same way Alex needed Tom. The only problem was, Alex wasn't altogether sure he could be depended upon.

Sabina left after half an hour or so, after giving him a kiss on the cheek and telling him sternly to _call_ her when he was out of hospital.

"It's nearly Christmas!"she said as she was leaving. "I have to give you your present, don't I?"

Which only left Alex in a mild state of panic as to what he was supposed to do about Christmas presents. He'd better get Tom something small – and Sabina something bigger, he supposed – but what of other people? Alex's lips twitched slightly as he thought of what he might buy for Alan Blunt if the occasion ever arose. A cartoon tie, perhaps? Wolf, he doubted, would celebrate Christmas – certainly he'd given no indication of it, and the flat was bare. He wanted to get Ben something, though... He'd have to think about it, and hope the doctors released him in time to go shopping.

Sabina, too, was thinking about Christmas as she stepped out of Alex's room. Her mum would be spending it in hospital – no doubt about that; her dad was paying them to keep her in over the holiday. Maybe she could spend it with Alex? _Or not_, she thought as Alex's new guardian popped into her head. He didn't look much like the festive type. Perhaps she'd ask Alex if he wanted to spend Christmas with her and her dad...

She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't give any notice to what was going on around her until she crashed – literally – into a man nearly twice the size of her.

"Sorry, sorry!" she said, stepping backwards, and then blinked as she realised it was Alex's guardian – Wolf? – the very person she'd just been thinking about. He gave no reaction to her bumping into him – and it had been hard – but he too looked uncomfortable at seeing her.

"Oh...hi...er..." He trailed off, clearly grasping for a name.

"Sabina," she supplied. "Wolf, right?"

Alex's guardian gave a curt nod. Sabina couldn't help but think how much friendlier Jack had been.

"Are you...here to visit Alex?" she asked, thinking the moment she'd said it that the obvious answer was _yes_. Wolf, however, just nodded absently, his brow now furrowed in a thoughtful frown.

"You know Alex well, right?" he said.

Wondering where this was going, it was Sabina's turn to nod silently.

"What sort of thing would he like for Christmas, do you know?" The words came out in a rush, and Wolf shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I feel like I should get him something, you know – it's been a rough couple of days for him..."

Sabina couldn't stop her mouth from falling open in shock. "What?"

"A Christmas present," Wolf snapped. "Forget it, it's fine." He started to stride past her and up the corridor, towards Alex's room. Sabina made a split-second decision.

"Wait!" she called.

Wolf stopped and turned slowly on the spot to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Alex is a teenage boy," she started. "What did _you_ want at fourteen...?"

* * *

A/N: I think I'll leave it there, guys; not so much of a cliffhanger – though leaving Wolf to buy a Christmas present? This could be dangerous. I'm sorry if you didn't like Sabina turning up again – I know some people really don't. I'm very keen for her _not_ to dominate the story, and I think it's important to realise that (much as we all want him to be), Alex just isn't boyfriend material.

I've got three more weeks of holiday left, so I'm going to do my best to rap out at least one more chapter in that time, though ideally I'd like to get a couple more in the first-draft stages so you won't have such a long wait between chapters again. Sorry if this was rubbish, considering the amount of time you've waited, but please review and let me know what you think anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Wow, a 7000 word chapter with a relatively short update period. Be proud! Thank you so much for all the reviews – I wish I had time to reply to them all, because some of them really made me smile (particularly prone2dementia's – thank you!), but you'll probably appreciate the quicker update more. I'm quite happy with this chapter. Let me know what you think.

(Incidentally, the last update was only halfway through my holiday. My break's actually 6 weeks long. NOW how jealous are you?)

* * *

Chapter 12

Two days later, Alex sat on the edge of the hospital bed, fully dressed, feeling physically tired but mentally alert. His insides still felt like someone had dragged a cheese grater through them, and his banging headache refused to go away. He'd never been poisoned before, but he was absolutely certain he didn't want it to happen again. It didn't even vaguely resemble the scene from that Bond film – Casino Royale, was it? – where Bond was poisoned, had his heart restarted, and was instantly back in good health. Someone should probably have informed the producers how misleading that portrayal was.

It was December 23rd now – two days before Christmas. Alex wondered if he'd have time to go shopping when he got back. He stared out of the window, watching the snow flutter past. Perhaps he'd leave it until tomorrow.

"Alex." Alex recognised the voice, but turned his head anyway out of politeness. His doctor stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard and wearing the same easy smile he always did, though Alex could tell it was well-practised. Dr. Duffy's eyes betrayed him as he entered the room, surveying Alex with a mixture of disapproval, curiosity and something akin to sadness. In fact, it was remarkably close to the look Wolf was giving him these days. Why did everyone think he had to be _pitied?_

"So are you looking forward to going home?" Dr. Duffy asked him, looking down at the clipboard he was holding.

Alex wasn't sure he wanted to think of Wolf's flat as 'home', and even if he did, he wasn't at all convinced he wanted to go back there anyway, but he settled his face into a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

Dr. Duffy smiled and set down his clipboard, picking up an arm cuff attached by a lead to a blood pressure monitor. "Hold out your arm, please. I'll just run some tests and you should be good to go. Providing they're all fine, of course." He winked.

Wolf appeared as Dr. Duffy was finishing his tests. He hovered rather awkwardly in the doorway, clearly trying to avoid staring at Alex. Alex had got up an hour beforehand, and taken a long hot shower in the room's ensuite. He knew he looked a lot better than he had the last few days.

"It looks like everything's absolutely fine – good, in fact," Alex's doctor announced, picking his clipboard up again and making a few notes. "You might feel tired for the next day or two, but get some sleep and you'll be fine." He looked sternly over his glasses. "I hope not to see you too soon, again, Alex. You're making a habit of it." He smiled, nodded to Wolf, and left the room.

Alex stood up slowly, and looked at Wolf, who was giving him a hard look now.

"Ready to go?" Alex asked.

"'You're making a habit of it'?" Wolf said. "What was that about?"

Alex shrugged. Wolf had asked him a lot of questions while he'd been in hospital, and he hadn't answered any of them, his replies ranging from noncommittal, to ignoring the question, to – once – telling Wolf straight he was tired and didn't want to talk about his life with MI6. None of them had put Wolf off his questioning, but this time, he just pursed his lips, seemingly wanting to avoid an argument.

_How unlike him_, Alex thought dryly as he followed Wolf out of the room. In fact, the man remained completely silent all the way to his car, barely looking at Alex. Was he absorbed by something? Sitting in the passenger seat as Wolf drove, Alex opened his mouth to ask – very tentatively – what had been happening whilst he'd been in hospital, when Wolf started speaking.

"So are you looking forward to Christmas?"

Alex was well-trained enough not to let his mouth drop open in shock, but it was a close call. It took him a few seconds to find his voice.

"Er – I guess." He'd tried not to think too much about Christmas Day, actually. In years past, it had been the three of them – he, Jack, and Ian; Ian always made it back for Christmas – the only day he ever made an effort. Now Ian was dead. Jack was in America. It was just him. And who – MI6 and their associates?

"_You can come and stay with me for Christmas, if you want,"_ Tom had offered. _"There might be a risk of a plate colliding with your head, or the turkey being thrown out of the window, but the offer's there..."_

Alex had a suspicion Sabina's would be just as bad. He wasn't sure, anyway, that he wanted to celebrate Christmas. Christmas could be interpreted or celebrated a number of ways – as a Christian festival, as a family time, or just as a time to be thankful. Alex wasn't too sure about his religious beliefs, he didn't _have_ a family anymore, and the only thing he was grateful for this year was that he was still alive. _What a thing to celebrate_, he thought bitterly.

"I was training in the army last Christmas," Wolf said, apparently realising Alex wasn't going to say anything else. "Got told my application for SAS had been successful on Christmas Eve."

"Must've been a good Christmas."

"Yeah..." Wolf pulled up next to the curb, took the car out of gear, put on the handbrake and switched off the engine. "Until I had to get up for shooting training at five o'clock on Christmas Day."

Alex gave a small smile, glad, at least, that Wolf hadn't revealed a secret history for spending time with family at Christmas. He thought he'd take Tom's or Sabina's – heck, even Alan Blunt – over spending Christmas with Wolf and the people who had spawned Wolf. It was odd, Alex thought as he got out of the car, to think of Wolf with a family. The man seemed so...isolated. In fact, he'd be prepared to put money on the fact Wolf was alone too.

Still feeling tired, and resolving to take a nap when he got through the front door, Alex failed to notice the fact there were multiple footprints – not all of the same size or pattern – leading up and down the steps to the basement flat, or the fine green pine needles lying on the snow outside the door. Nor did he notice the way the curtains were drawn in the front window, even though it was late morning. He waited while Wolf found his key and opened the door, and then followed him inside.

It was the smell that first gave it away.

The hallway looked the same, but upon entering the flat, Alex's nostrils were immediately assaulted by the unmistakable smell of pine. He looked down to see green needles on the carpet, leading from the front door to...

Alex moved towards the sitting room. As his entered, this time, he was unable to stop himself from gaping.

In the corner of the room stood a large Christmas tree – so large the top had clearly had to be cut off so it would fit. It was covered in lights, tinsel and multicoloured baubles, and someone had fixed fairy lights to the wall, leading all around the room. A moving Santa Claus – which, to Alex, looked slightly sinister – had been placed in another corner. Alex's gaze moved around the room in shock, finally settling on the three grinning men sitting on the sofa.

"Do you like it?" Ben was the first to speak. "We had a lousy Christmas last year in the army, so we wanted to be a bit more festive this year..."

"What," came a growl from behind Alex, "have you done to my flat?"

"Decorated it!" Snake told him cheerfully.

"We agreed a tree. With some white lights. You've turned this into...some sort of Christmas shop. Is that – _tinsel?_"

Alex had to stifle a laugh. Wolf couldn't sound less amused.

"Oh calm down, Wolf," said Ben lazily, leaning back on the sofa. "I know you hate entering into the spirit of things, but I think we all need an excuse to be cheerful this year."

"Now come on, Wolfie," Eagle piped up, "you haven't told us what you want for Christmas yet." He and Snake looked gleeful. Alex stared. Were these really the men who just a fortnight before had barely been on speaking terms?

"I told you: I don't do Christmas," Wolf muttered with a glare.

"Nonsense." Ben flashed an easy smile in Alex's direction. "Don't listen to him; he's already decided what your present will be."

Wolf's glare intensified. Had that glare belonged to any one of his former opponents intent on killing him in the worst way possible, Alex was sure he'd be a quivering wreck. _A present, though?_ He shifted uncomfortably. He barely knew these men; he didn't want _presents._ In fact – hadn't he made up his mind? He didn't want Christmas either.

"It's all right," he said, "you don't have to get me anything."

"A fourteen year-old who's not excited about Christmas?" Eagle looked disbelieving. "Are you serious?"

Alex felt a spark of irritation, but forced it down. He didn't want to pick a fight with Eagle – the man had saved his life. But what did they honestly think he had to celebrate?

"I'm pretty tired," he said, when he realised Eagle – and everyone else – was still waiting for an answer. "Sorry. The tree looks great – the whole room does. But I think I'll just have a nap for a while if you don't mind."

"See?" he heard Wolf hiss from the living room as he made his way to his room. "I _told_ you this was a bad plan."

"It wasn't only for Cub, you idiot..."

Alex paused with his hand on the doorknob, his stomach clenching. Even if he _hadn't_ only been for him, it implied he'd had something to do with it, and he'd just – what, rejected them? Had they just been trying to cheer him up, make sure he was having a good Christmas?

"You really think this unit's going to bond over _Christmas?"_ Wolf's voice was a sneer.

"Christmas is a bonding time!"

Shaking his head and silently berating himself, Alex entered his room and let the door close softly behind him.

It took five minutes for Ben to knock on his door.

Alex was lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his body exhausted but his thoughts bouncing around his skull. He _wanted_ to get excited about Christmas, but he just felt indifference. Was this the fault of MI6? Or the inevitable consequence of having no family at Christmas?

Three knocks again. Alex knew it was Ben. Anyone else would have just entered when he didn't answer.

"Yeah, come in," he said, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position as Ben came in. He closed the door behind him and then stood, meeting Alex's gaze.

"Hey," he said. His expression, as usual, was unreadable. "Just thought I'd come and see if you really are tired or you need to chat." His tone wasn't patronising, and Alex felt a rush of gratitude towards him. Somehow Ben always managed to make talking seem like a good idea. Was that what made him a good spy? Was he treating Alex the way he'd treat a suspect he needed to squeeze answers from? Alex gave himself a mental shake. He was becoming far too suspicious.

"I'm all right," he said. "Why would I need to talk?"

Ben sat down on Alex's desk chair. Alex had a sense of déjà-vu. He suspected Ben had sat down to put him at ease, but he felt on edge, nervous. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ a heart to heart with Ben.

"You tell me," he said. "I can come up with a thousand reasons. Christmas being right up there along with the fact someone's – or some _people_ are – trying to kill you."

"Uh, that last one not so much, strangely," Alex said, and couldn't hide a small smile. "I mean, it's all right. I'll just be careful. Or MI6 will."

Ben forced a smile, but Alex could see the frown deep in his eyes, even if his brow didn't betray it. "And Christmas?"

Alex shrugged, standing up and crossing the room. He wondered for a second what had drawn him there, before realising he'd placed a photograph of himself and Ian on holiday on top of the chest of drawers a few days before. Alex stared at it for a second, before turning back to face Ben, who was giving him a penetrating look.

"Well, I spent last Christmas with my uncle and my housekeeper," Alex rapped out. "Happily oblivious to all this...MI6 stuff. Now it's just me, and I'm going to spend Christmas with the SAS – and an MI6 agent," he added. "I mean, no offence, but it kind of dampens the party spirit, no?"

Ben ran a hand back through his hair, and tried to disguise it, but Alex still caught the pity in his gaze.

"I don't want sympathy," he said quickly. "I just – want you to understand."

Ben nodded, but remained silent for several minutes. Alex's eyes wandered over the rest of the room, suddenly missing his uncle's house in Chelsea. This room wasn't _his._ It was Wolf's spare room. Just a room he was staying in – temporarily or permanently, he wasn't sure.

"I meant what I said," Ben said at last, and Alex's gaze snapped back to Ben's face. "I think Christmas could be good for all of us – every one of us needs some cheering up this year. No one really _feels _like it, but we all recognise we need to make the effort. It doesn't help wallowing in misery."

"Yeah, because Wolf's the shining example of _that_ particular piece of advice," Alex said sourly.

"Wolf just...takes some persuasion. But, I mean, Eagle _hates_ Christmas – does everything he can to avoid celebrating it – but even he recognises it's important this year. And I think – I think it's important that you're there too."

"Me?" Alex frowned. "Why should I matter? I'm just making things worse – you heard them after I left the room."

Ben smiled – genuinely this time – as if he was laughing at some private joke. Alex couldn't understand why. "You know, for one of MI6's most successful agents, you do have a tendency to miss the obvious."

Alex just looked at him, waiting for a real answer.

Ben sighed. "Put it this way: before you arrived, that unit was a disaster. You saw them when you first arrived – Eagle and Wolf weren't speaking, none of them had anything to say to one another and all of them were on dangerous ground. Now they're planning to spend Christmas Day together. You've given them something to focus on other than themselves." He stood up. "Think about it for a while." And with another strange smile, he left the room.

Alex just watched the door close behind him, speechless. Wolf had tended to act as though Alex was an inconvenience rather than any sort of saviour. Was it possible trying to figure Alex out had given him some sort of _direction?_ Alex couldn't help but smile at the idea of this being suggested to Wolf. Still...the whole thing seemed hard to believe. He hadn't done much aside from cause trouble: catching Wolf having nightmares; coming close to failing Science; being caught with a gun; being poisoned.

Alex walked back over to his bed, and lay down again, trying not to think about it. If what Ben said was true, he would celebrate Christmas – to help K unit. But nothing else. He wouldn't celebrate it for himself, and he certainly wouldn't be happy about it.

* * *

"So?" Snake asked as soon as Ben entered the room again. Ben rolled his eyes and shut the living room door behind him. Alex had ears like a bat.

"I don't know," he said. "I think he feels he's not got much to celebrate."

"Yeah, because we _obviously_ have," Wolf said dryly.

"Maybe we should all just be thankful we're alive and reasonably healthy," Eagle snapped. Ben could already see the warning signs of Eagle under stress. He wished Alex had been more forthcoming and just agreed Christmas should be celebrated this year.

"It could be worse," Snake agreed.

"It could much b – "

Wolf was cut off by a loud knock at the front door. Seeing Wolf and Eagle glaring at one another, Ben let out a sigh and went to answer it.

It was Jackal.

Ben considered himself fairly tall and athletic, but Jackal somehow still towered over him and seemed at least twice as well built. Ben wasn't intimidated, but the last time he'd seen Jackal he'd knocked him out and left him lying in the snow; he wouldn't be surprised if Jackal wanted revenge.

To his surprise, however, the man gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement. "Is Wolf in?"

"Uh...yeah," Ben said tentatively as the sound of raised voices reached his ears again, and he looked back towards the living room.

"This _was_ your bright idea."

"Well, _your_ only objection, as I seem to recall, was that you didn't want a tree that was too large."

Ben's eyes slid back to Jackal, who looked exasperated. For a second, Ben felt something akin to respect for the man – finally, a member of K unit who _didn't_ want to argue – until he remembered the way he'd behaved towards Alex, and it was gone, buried.

Still, he thought as he moved aside to let Jackal pass, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the SAS member if you took _all_ of his behaviour into account. Eagle insisted the man had a violent temper – and certainly, the way he'd lashed out at Alex had been indicative of that – but on an earlier occasion, Alex had been deliberately goading him, and the man had just let it go. Snake had told him privately Jackal seemed the only grounded member of the team right now – the only _reasonable _member – yet half the time he spoke, Ben couldn't understand where he was coming from. He shut the door, shaking his head. He'd left K unit now; it really didn't matter.

When he entered the living room behind Jackal, he discovered perhaps relations between K unit _did_ still matter. Wolf and Eagle were standing perhaps six feet apart, facing one another, glaring. Their whole body language screamed both 'defensive' and 'angry'; Eagle's arms were crossed one over the other across his chest, and Wolf's hands were balled into tight fists. Snake still sat on the sofa, looking between the two of them.

"With all due respect, Wolf, what made you think I wanted to spend Christmas Day with a bad tempered, lonely guy?" Eagle spat out after a few seconds, apparently deciding that he didn't care who was presented.

"_Lonely?"_ Wolf spluttered. His eyes bulged and he tightened his fists – Ben saw a vein bulge in his forearm leading all the way up to his elbow. "I'm not _lonely_. Trust me, I'm far better off without you around."

"That's _enough,_" Jackal said harshly, stepping forward. Eagle and Wolf both took a step apart, looking away – the way they would, Ben thought, if the Sergeant had reprimanded them for starting a brawl in the mess hall. But, something – something wasn't right with this. It should have been _Wolf_ giving the orders, and the Wolf Ben knew when he'd been in K unit hardly would have stood for someone other than the Sergeant telling him what to do. Ben's eyes narrowed. What had changed between Ben's time with K unit and now?

_You know what's different,_ a little voice reminded him. _You just don't want to accept it's truly changed any of them._

"How do you think we're going to get back to training if we carry on like this?" Jackal continued. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, because the Sergeant and Jones can obviously see us right this minute," Eagle said sarcastically.

"I think you'd be surprised," Jackal said, and his gaze flickered for a second to Ben, before moving away again. Ben gritted his teeth. Jackal really thought he'd discuss his friends' troubles with the heads of Special Operations?

"We need to start working as a team." Jackal's gaze moved between Wolf and Eagle, and a couple of times to Snake. "Even if we go back to training now, we're not going to be sent on service for at least another month. And I don't know about you, but I want to get back to my job."

Ben had expected murmurs of agreement, but only Snake nodded. Ben thought he saw something flash in Wolf's eyes – was it _fear?_ – but it was gone so quickly, it might have been imagined. Eagle's face remained blank.

"Of course I want to get back to training," he snapped. "But I don't need to be lectured like I'm a five year-old."

"Perhaps you should stop behaving like one," Jackal said coolly.

Ben's mouth nearly dropped at the audacity of this statement, and, knowing Eagle's temper, he braced himself for the punch that was inevitably to follow. But to his surprise, Eagle's arms just dropped from their folded position, his whole body completely relaxed, the only sign of emotion an utter expression of disdain written across his face.

"Did you just come here to lecture us, _Jackal_," he asked, "or was there an actual reason?"

Jackal met Eagle's gaze for nearly half a minute without speaking. Ben had to admire his nerve – staring into Eagle's glare was a feat that could make even the hardest of men break.

"Actually," he said slowly, drawing out his words, "I came to tell you I've heard word on the street we could be going back to training soon."

That shocked Eagle enough into silence. Wolf just gaped. Ben could understand – who on earth had decided K unit was _ready_ to be sent back to training – and then into the field? Only Snake spoke.

"Thank God for that," he said. "About flipping time."

"Where did you hear this from? When are we going?" Wolf rapped out, suddenly back in control. His mouth was set in a hard line, a muscle in his neck twitching. Ben couldn't work out if he was happy about this news or angry.

Jackal shrugged. "I don't know when we're going. I heard word from a contact of mine in SO. Said Blunt and Jones have requested our files for review."

"So we don't know _for certain_ we're going back yet?" Wolf pressed.

"Not for certain," Jackal conceded. "My contact did say he thought the heads' minds had already been made up, though."

"God help us," Eagle muttered, shaking his head – fairly out of character, Ben thought, considering he wasn't religious. _Desperate times call for desperate measures?_

They were all silent for a few minutes, digesting this new piece of information. Ben was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear Alex's door open, or the boy's footsteps, until Alex appeared next to him, looking apprehensive. He gave a slight nod in Ben's direction, though he didn't really seem to see him, his gaze moving quickly around the room, resting on Jackal just a few more seconds than the others, before it returned to Eagle and Wolf, looking between them.

"Hey, Cub," Eagle said, the first to speak. Ben chanced a look at Jackal, who was looking distinctly disinterested now Alex had arrived.

"Hey," Alex said quietly. He ran a hand back through his hair. Ben wondered if he always did that when he felt awkward. "I just thought – you went to a lot of trouble to put this stuff up, and...yeah. It looks nice. Er...maybe Christmas won't be that bad?" There was a note of uncertainty at the end as he looked between Eagle and Wolf. Of course, he couldn't have failed to hear their argument.

"No, it won't be," Snake said, nodding. "Like Ben said – I think we could all do with cheering up this year."

Jackal cleared his throat. There was a split second pause, before Ben realised they hadn't even _mentioned_ Christmas Day to him. He opened his mouth, but Eagle was shooting daggers at him, and by the time Ben had moved his gaze back to Jackal, the man was already speaking.

"I have to get going," he said. "Just wanted to pass on the news." His tone was cool, no hint that he was angry or hurt. Good acting? Ben studied his face. Jackal didn't look as though he was affected in any way by the revelation his teammates had been planning Christmas without him. Ben found this hard to fathom. He would have been devastated in the same position.

"See you later," Snake said. "Maybe we can organise a drink or something tomorrow? I'll call you...perhaps," he added, his voice trailing off as Jackal left the room without saying anything. They heard the front door slam.

"Do you think he's angry?" Snake asked immediately.

Eagle snorted. "I don't care. I'm not spending Christmas with him. I _draw the line."_

"Well, it looks like you're going to have to spend a lot of time with him soon," Ben pointed out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex frown. Of course – he'd missed Jackal's news. Probably no need to mention it yet, until they knew for certain. Ben wasn't entirely sure what Blunt and Jones were planning to do with Alex. Perhaps he could offer to give him a place to stay.

"Yeah, well, this'll be my last opportunity to be Jackass-free, won't it?" Eagle said. He collapsed onto the sofa next to Snake, looking deep in thought. "I'm sorry, Wolf," he said, after a moment. "Don't know what came over me. Just saw red. Truce?" That was the thing with Eagle – quick to anger, but usually almost as quick to forgive and apologise.

Wolf nodded curtly. "Truce." The closest Wolf ever got to an apology, Ben thought with some amusement. Though the tension was gone from the room, now, though, and although it looked as if they'd all be spending Christmas together, he still felt a tingling of apprehension. Going back to training was a big deal – as Jackal had said, going back to training meant a month until deployment abroad.

Were K unit really ready for this?

* * *

"They're ready."

Alan Blunt looked up at Mrs. Jones with a completely blank expression that, as usual, she couldn't read, but, on this occasion, she didn't need to try. She looked down at the file on her lap.

"_Showing signs of improvement, but I would recommend a further six sessions, with another assessment following..."_

"_Still shows signs of depression, though appears to be more able now to focus on those around him..."_

"_Admits still to the occasional nightmare..."_

"_My report remains the same as it did at the beginning: the patient is not in need of counselling...shows few to no signs of post-traumatic disorder..."_

The last one regarded Jackal. Mrs. Jones wasn't concerned about _him_; he hadn't spent very much time with K unit before they had been deployed to Iraq, and, he'd never shown any signs of having been seriously affected. The other reports, however, gave her reason to doubt her superior's assessment.

"_Remains unwilling to discuss the matter...appears to be pretending nothing has happened..."_

"_Insists he is sleeping normally but still shows signs of exhaustion..."_

"_The patient was unusually bad-tempered this afternoon..."_

The counsellors' reports were undoubtedly a thousand times better than they had been a month before – Mrs. Jones swallowed at the memory of them. But these weren't the sort of reports she liked to see before she sent agents back to the field. The Sergeant was relying on their judgement. She didn't see why the standards for SAS soldiers should be any lower than for MI6 agents.

"Perhaps we should give them a few more weeks, Alan," she said.

"There's no time," her superior said. Even his voice was devoid of emotion – no indication of the reasoning behind his words. Mrs. Jones tried again.

"Dr Patterson recommends a further six sessions on Wolf's report – that's just three weeks after Christmas. If we could just wait – "

"There's _no time_," Alan snapped. He reached for a thin silver staple sitting on the left hand side of his desk and started to bend it with one hand.

"I know the situation in Iraq needs looking at," she said quietly. "But – "

"Agent Clegg was killed last night," he reminded her. "That's the third agent we've lost in as many weeks. Monitoring it from London isn't working."

Mrs. Jones watched the staple bend under Alan's fingers with a heavy heart. "I just don't want to see more people killed unnecessarily. We owe more to our agents – and the British forces – than that."

"It's not unnecessary." The staple snapped in two, and Alan stood up abruptly, standing by the window and staring out of it. Mrs. Jones knew he never made decisions without a great deal of calculation, but sometimes even he sometimes miscalculated.

Admittedly he did have yet to _over_estimate a threat.

"Have you spoken to the Prime Minister about the situation?" she asked. "Would you like me to schedule a meeting?"

Alan glanced back at her before returning to staring down at the street below. "No. He wouldn't approve."

"The Foreign Secretary?"

She saw Alan purse his lips. If they were to go ahead with this operation, strictly speaking they _did_ need to inform the Foreign Secretary. Unfortunately, he had only recently been appointed and tended to be as uncooperative as the Prime Minister.

"No," he said at last. "Let's keep this quiet for now. Call Wolf in two days' time and inform him K unit will be returning to training on the twenty-ninth of December. Call the Sergeant today and tell him to expect them then."

"Is that all?"

Alan turned back to face her. "Did you receive Agent Daniel's report? I haven't seen it."

"It arrived an hour ago," Mrs. Jones said. "His doctor recommends more physiotherapy. The report says his reactions aren't as quick as they could be."

"I see."

Mrs. Jones couldn't tell if this information changed her superior's plans. She stood up to leave.

"We've got no further on who was targeting Alex Rider?" Alan suddenly asked.

Mrs. Jones turned back, already halfway out the door. "We've traced the poison back to Syria," she said. "No one's come forward. I have someone trailing Alex now he's been discharged."

Alan nodded, but his expression was grim. Mrs. Jones knew that he, like her, was unsettled by how clueless they were about who had been behind the poisoning. Usually after an assassination attempt someone came forward – and it was usually related to a mission the agent was deeply involved in at the time. Alex was involved in nothing. This looked like it was part of something much bigger – something they didn't entirely understand and they were therefore unable to control.

"Have Senior Agent Cutting come to see me, would you?" her superior said, turning back to the window. Mrs. Jones closed the office door behind her, and gave one last look down at the file she was holding.

"_Admits to frequent conflicts with teammates..."_

"_Appears in denial..."_

She heaved a sigh. She hoped Alan knew what he was doing, and that K unit were more ready than they appeared in their reports.

* * *

It was around midnight when Alex decided to take a break from his English Literature reading and get a glass of water. He set _The Canterbury Tales _down on his desk, folding over a corner so he didn't lose his page. The poetry was taking him even longer than the Shakespeare, and he was afraid, given the time he'd already spent in hospital, that he wouldn't have time to catch up during the holiday. English was the last subject he was still struggling with. Perhaps Mr. Grey wouldn't mind giving him a few extra hours at the start of next term.

Since it was late, he didn't particularly expect Wolf to still be up – Jack had always told him he was 'nocturnal' and Alex knew not everyone was the same – but when he entered the kitchen, he found Wolf sitting at the table, a glass of water in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot and he was staring into space. He didn't give any sign he'd noticed Alex, who quietly crossed the room and filled a glass from the tap.

"Wolf?" he asked tentatively after several long minutes of silence in which Wolf still hadn't acknowledged his presence.

No answer – no sign Wolf had even heard him.

Frowning, Alex set his glass down on the side, moved towards Wolf, and, after some hesitation, placed a hand on his shoulder. Wolf flinched, but other than that, there was no response.

"Are you all right?" Alex persisted.

Another long silence. Then: "Do I look _fucking all right?"_ Wolf's voice was hoarse. Alex instinctively took a step backwards, but moved around so Wolf could see him. He took more notice of Wolf's appearance now – his eyes _were_ bloodshot, but not red-rimmed; he'd not been crying. His pupils were unfocused, and his grip slightly slack on the glass, even as he lifted it and knocked it back.

Alex's eyes narrowed. No one drank water like that.

His suspicions were confirmed when Wolf heaved himself to his feet with a grunt and went to the fridge, pulling out a half-empty bottle of vodka and filling his glass again.

_Neat vodka?_

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Alex asked, not forcefully, testing Wolf's mood. To his surprise and slight unnerve Wolf threw back his head and gave a short, barking laugh.

"Let's imagine," he said, leaning against the fridge and taking a long gulp from the glass, "that MI6 have just informed you they're going to send you back into the field. And you know it's going to be suicidal to go."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "In that case, drinking heavily probably wouldn't be the best route to survival." He paused. "_Are _you being sent back into the field?"

"Back to training, so Jackal says. Dunno when, but soon." Wolf hand, balled up into a fist, hit the fridge door with a slam. "Whose _bloody_ bright idea was it? Half the time we're barely civil and the other half we're ready to rip each other's throats out." He took another long gulp from the glass.

Alex remained silent for a few seconds, resisting the urge to grab the glass from Wolf's hand. He wasn't _used_ to this; Ian had never touched alcohol, and Jack limited herself to the occasional glass of wine. "Maybe they think training will be good for bonding?" he suggested. "Better for you than being stuck at home." He paused again. "I thought you wanted to go back to training?"

"Yes. No. I thought so." Wolf drained his glass and casually tossed the glass into the sink. It shattered. Alex winced, but Wolf seemed unfazed. "Training's one thing, the field's another."

"Just – just think about the field like an extension of training," Alex said. Was he really trying to _counsel_ Wolf? He'd been in some strange situations, but he wondered if this might trump them all; never had he imagined he would be giving _Wolf_ advice on his job. "Besides, by the time you've been through training, you'll probably be ready to be back in the field."

"You really think I'll be ready for the horrors of the field again after running around a jungle for a few weeks? Don't you _get_ it?"

"No, since you've never told me," Alex bit back. "I thought SAS training was supposed to prepare you in the best possible way for deployment. It's not just running around a jungle, is it?"

"Oh no." Wolf gave another short laugh. "Another week on refreshing skills in Hereford and a thirty-six hour resistance to interrogation exercise. Because that's really enough to prepare you if you really _do _undergo an interrogation."

Alex swallowed, rooted to the spot. "They can't prepare you for _every_ scenario," he said quietly. "It's – that's why you were chosen. They thought you could cope with whatever you were thrown."

"Yeah, well, turns out I can't," Wolf snapped. "Just because you think you can cope with everything – being poisoned, whatever – you just don't get it. You're a _spy_. It's not the same being a soldier. When you're in a unit, you've got people to think about other than yourself."

Something snapped inside Alex. He wondered later why he did; perhaps he was tired, not quite in control of his emotions and thoughts. "You think I only think about myself? Let's just take a look at the two of us, Wolf. You made my life hell at Brecon Beacons, but here I am trying to persuade you to go back to training. I could just let you wallow in your own misery. And instead of gritting your teeth and going back to training with your team, you're drinking away your sorrows. Doesn't much seem like you're thinking about anyone other than yourself."

He'd pushed Wolf too far – knew it as soon as he finished his last sentence and saw anger bolt across Wolf's face. The man was in front of him in two strides, gripping the front of his T-shirt tightly.

"Do you have _any fucking idea what I've been through?"_ Wolf spat, baring his teeth. "What we've all been through? Eagle and I found Snake nearly tortured to _death_ in Samarra, having been 'interrogated' for information. Didn't look like any interrogation I've ever been prepared for. Snake was in hospital for weeks. As we were trying to escape, Eagle was shot in the arm. Would've been killed if Jackal hadn't turned up and shot the man dead. But that man was the _one_ chance we had to understanding all this. We don't even know why Snake was put through all that. Are you trying to tell me _training_ is going to prepare me for going back to that hell hole?"

He released Alex very suddenly, who stood, unable to move, staring at Wolf. He didn't know what to say – didn't know what he could say. He'd had a vague idea of what had happened to Snake, but his imagination hadn't extended to this – not even close.

"Get out," Wolf suddenly snapped, turning away. "Just leave me the hell alone."

Alex slowly backed out of the kitchen, staying only in time to see Wolf pulling open the fridge again. But what could he do? He couldn't think of a better reason for a man to be driven to drink.

He let himself into his room and let the door click softly shut behind him. Holding his head in his hands, he lowered himself into his desk chair. He'd goaded Wolf the way Wolf had goaded him, daring the soldier to tell him what had happened in Iraq in return for what he'd been doing for MI6. He realised now it wasn't a fair bargain – why Wolf hadn't take it. Clearly, what Alex had been through didn't hurt him even half as much as Wolf's experiences did him.

He bit his lip, staring at the cover of the _Canterbury Tales._ Why couldn't he just be normal? Any other person his age was looking forward to Christmas, relaxing at home, seeing family. Two days before Christmas, here he was, trying to deal with a drunk SAS soldier who had been through horrors Alex couldn't begin to comprehend.

He gave himself a mental shake. This wasn't about him; this was about Wolf.

Still, once again, he couldn't help but miss Jack terribly at that moment – and even Ian. His hand curled into a first, hating Alan Blunt more than he ever had at that moment. He was in no doubt that it was Blunt's fault K unit were being sent back to training already. And what would happen to him when K unit went away? Dread curled its cold fingers around Alex's stomach.

_Well, however I'm feeling, _he remind himself, _it's probably not even close to how bad Wolf is._

Wolf, at that moment, stood hunched over the sink. The bottle of vodka sat on the counter, next to Cub's abandoned glass of water. He knew he was out of control. But he'd allowed himself this one last night of...freedom before he cleaned himself up and got it together. He couldn't help but give a half sort of ironic smile at that thought. His mother, in a drunken state, had told him once when he was fourteen that she drank to get 'release'. He'd condemned her at the time, swearing he'd never become dependent on anything.

Now, thirteen years later, he knew exactly what she meant. It wasn't quite the same; he wasn't dependent, he didn't _need_ to drink, but he wanted to. To get release.

He _did_ regret telling Cub about Iraq, though. Credit to the kid, his face had kept almost entirely straight, but Wolf had seen the shock and pity in his eyes. He didn't want pity, least of all from a kid.

And now he'd never find out what Cub had been up to with MI6. Wolf gritted his teeth, unsure of what angered him more – that Cub knew his secret, but he didn't know Cub's.

He heard Cub leave his room and enter the bathroom, the door banging shut and locking, and then the sound of running water. Wolf looked down at his watch. He thought it said half past twelve...or was it half past one? He had a feeling he had work the next day, but if he did, he wasn't going. Mrs. Jones could go to hell. Didn't she get it? Didn't _any of them_ get it?

_Eagle gets it_, a small voice said, and Wolf shut his eyes briefly, returning to that god-awful moment when he and Eagle had broken down the cellar door of a house in Samarra. They'd switched on a dim naked bulb attached to the ceiling, to find Snake lying on the ground, tied up, thin, pale, bloody and beaten. Wolf remembered him and Eagle swearing simultaneously they'd get revenge. They hadn't yet.

He forced his eyes open. He'd still get revenge. For Snake. And for whatever bastard had done this to his unit.

Even if it killed him.

* * *

A/N: I've had comments before that I've 'ruined' this story by refusing to replace swear words with something less offensive; I'm sorry, but I don't think a depressed SAS soldier would really check his language, and I feel it's important to the dialogue, so it's staying in. Anyway, this is a nice, long (well, not necessarily 'nice', but definitely long) chapter to be going on with. I have exams in less than 2 weeks, so don't expect an update before then unless I need some serious stress relief. Please review, let me know what you think, and I'll update again as soon as I can.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Wow, an update! Be excited! Lots of stuff in this chapter – getting on for 9,000 words, so prepare for a long read! Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed in the last few months; it really does motivate me. I'm sorry this took so long, but it's nearly impossible for me to write in term time at the moment. There're lots of things I'm unhappy with in this chapter, but I feel like you deserve one after all this time.

* * *

Chapter 13

Alex systematically tried to avoid Wolf the next morning; it wasn't he didn't_ want_ to talk to him; it wasn't even the fact he knew Wolf would feel awkward and would deal with it by losing his temper – or pressing Alex for answers about his own life – but that he simply didn't know what to say. He supposed he understood Wolf better than he wanted to admit – with everything he'd been through, how could he not? – and yet at the same time felt he couldn't possibly understand at all. He had lain awake the previous night, unable to sleep, trying to imagine how he'd react if he'd found Tom after he'd been tortured.

Suddenly everything made sense.

Perhaps it was because of his morbid thoughts the previous night, or maybe he just missed his friend, but midday on Christmas Eve found him knocking at Tom's front door – partly an effort to avoid Wolf and partly because there were urgent things that needed to be done.

No one came to the door for a long time, and Alex looked around. Tom's parents' car was sat in the driveway; curtains were still drawn upstairs. He knocked again.

From within came the sound of raised voices – muffled behind the door, so Alex couldn't tell what was being said, but it sounded like Tom's parents. Several loud bangs. And then the door finally opened and Tom stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and dressed in pyjama bottoms and a t shirt. His face lit up as he saw it was Alex.

"They let you out of hospital!" he exclaimed. "D'you want to come in? My parents are here, but just ignore them..."

He moved aside and Alex stepped into the hallway, wiping the snow from his shoes on the mat. The shouting got louder. Tom shut the door behind him.

"Come upstairs for a minute," he said. "I'll get changed quickly and then we can go out. I haven't done _any_ Christmas shopping, and Jerry's arriving this afternoon...did I tell you Jerry decided to come for Christmas?" Alex followed Tom upstairs as his friend chattered excitedly. "You're still welcome to come, of course – Mum and Dad will probably make a special effort since Jerry's coming home..." He pushed open the door of his room to reveal a space that could have been the aftermath of a Scorpia bomb attack. Clothes were everywhere, the bed was unmade, and plates, glasses and bowls with half-eaten meals occupied every available space that was left.

Alex picked his way across the floor to Tom's bed, where he sat down. "It's all right," he said. "K unit's decided we're all spending Christmas together at Wolf's. They decorated the flat and everything while I was in St. Dominic's."

"_Wolf_ decorated the flat?" Tom wriggled out of his T shirt and pulled open a drawer. "I thought you said he was a psycho? Looked a miserable enough git when I saw him at Parents' Evening."

"I didn't say he was a _psycho_," Alex countered. "But...yeah. He's all right about it."

"_Wow. _Maybe you're having a positive effect on him!" Tom paused. "Er...I'm about to take my pyjamas off..."

Obediently, Alex turned around to face the wall. Tom always had been a bit shy about stripping off in front of other people – a source of some amusement on the Brooklands football team. Alex, with the amount of time he'd spent in hospital over the last eight months, had shed any embarrassment he had ever possessed.

"So do you have Christmas shopping to do too?" he heard Tom ask.

"Yeah, I need your help," Alex answered, and, as he heard the sound of a zip being done up, turned around again to face his friend. "I have one afternoon to buy presents for three SAS men and an MI6 agent. Any ideas?"

Tom stopped and stared for several seconds, before a smirk slowly spread across his face, leaving Alex feeling no less apprehensive.

"Don't you worry, Al," he said, his smirk widening into a grin. "We'll find the _perfect_ gifts for them..."

Alex started to wonder if going to Tom for help was such a good idea after all.

* * *

At that exact moment, Snake stood at the bar of the _Anglesea Arms_, waiting to be served and wondering why he'd come in the first place.

_You need to make more of an effort with Jackal_, he reminded himself. _You don't want another Iraq._

Not that he blamed Jackal for the disaster of their last deployment. It wasn't Jackal's fault they'd had just a couple of weeks to train before they'd been thrown into the deep end in Baghdad. They'd split up at a time when they should have stayed together, trying to infiltrate a safehouse, and that's when..._it_ had happened. Sure, it wouldn't have happened with Fox; Fox would have _made_ them stay together. But Jackal was new, Wolf had called the shots and Snake and Eagle had failed to object, since Eagle and Jackal had just had an argument. _A failure of teamwork,_ he repeated to himself. _No one's fault. That's why you have to make an effort with Jackal._

He paid the barman for two pints and carried them back to the table where his teammate was sitting. Jackal's mouth, as usual, was set in a hard, straight line, and his face was blank, even as he nodded his thanks to Snake and took his drink. Snake slid into a seat opposite him, wincing slightly as his bad leg hit the table, unable to hide the pain. He was still having physiotherapy for it – the only injury he couldn't seem to get past.

_If you don't count the mental ones, _he thought grimly.

Jackal was watching him carefully. "Are you still in pain?" he asked. The question nearly caught Snake off guard. He couldn't remember Jackal asking after his well-being since K unit had found him in Samarra.

"A little," he admitted after a short pause to recover himself. "They did some pretty bad things."

Jackal nodded, slowly, and took a long gulp from his glass. "Do you think they'll let you go back to training?" he asked as he set the pint back down on the table.

"My physiotherapist said the best thing for it now is to get out and exercise a lot – says it's stiff from sitting around too much." Snake smiled grimly. "Unfortunately I had to sit around a lot waiting for the other injuries to heal."

"Yeah, you were in a pretty bad state when we found you," Jackal admitted, and, although his face gave nothing away, there was something – something akin to emotion, perhaps? – in his voice. He stared down at his glass for a moment. "I wonder if they'll let Eagle and Wolf back to training, actually. They're not exactly...stable."

"And you are?" Snake countered, automatically leaping to his friends' defence. He instantly regretted it; there was something rather _too_ stable about Jackal, actually – he _did_ have a nasty temper on him when he got going, but he seemed to harbour no other emotion.

"I was never _un_stable," was all Jackal said, before he took another gulp of beer. "Not like those two, anyway."

"You shot a man and killed him," Snake said, before he could stop himself. "Didn't that affect you at all?" This time he didn't regret speaking; he'd wondered for too long why Jackal hadn't experienced the same horrific depression and imbalance after Iraq. True, it hadn't been Jackal who had found him, but the man _had_ still killed someone. Snake hated killing people. He occasionally did it because he had no other choice, but he never forgot it.

Jackal was silent again for a minute, and he appeared to be studying Snake. "Why should it? I saved my teammate's life. I'm surprised Wolf and Eagle have been the way they are; they saved _yours_." He surveyed Snake, and Snake got the uncomfortable feeling the man was probing his soul. "You think I'm strange because I haven't needed counselling like everyone else," he said evenly. Snake couldn't tell if he was angry.

"Well, no...not _strange_," Snake said, suddenly finding his beer fascinating. "Just, you know, you'd only just joined the SAS when you came out to Iraq with us. I would have thought you'd be _less_ equipped to handle a situation like that."

Jackal gave a small smile, as if amused. It sent a chill up Snake's spine, without his knowing why.

"That's the point," he said. "I didn't know any of you very well before we went to Iraq. You three know each other perhaps better than you know yourselves – of _course_ it was going to affect you. But me? This must be the first time you and I have ever spoken alone. Yet you three spend days on end together."

Snake's mouth nearly dropped open, but he stopped it in time. If Jackal's words hadn't been said in such a deadpanned voice, one might've thought the man had _feelings_.

"I'm – sorry," he stuttered, almost tripping over the words. "We just – "

Jackal shook his head, holding his hand up. "It doesn't matter," he said, and was silent. Snake pressed on.

"You know, you're very welcome to spend Christmas with us tomorrow..."_ Well, welcomed by me. Everyone else may kill you or me for suggesting it._

Jackal gave another half-smirk, drained his glass and stood up.

"Thanks, Snake," he said coolly, "but I have plans tomorrow. Have a good Christmas – could be the last...for a long time." He strode past Snake and out of the pub door without looking back, leaving Snake staring after him.

'_Could be the last for a long time'?_ _What was that about?_ Snake gave himself a mental shake. He was reading too much into Jackal's words – being in the SAS, unfortunately, meant Christmas rarely featured on your yearly calendar. Jackal was right. They should enjoy it while they could.

* * *

It had not been a good day for Wolf.

He'd awoken to the sensation of someone attempting to crush his head with a nutcracker. Upon discovering this was the effect of a rather heavy drinking session the previous night (as evidenced by the empty bottle next to his bed), he was forced to ignore the headache in order to remember exactly what had happened. It was rather difficult.

He didn't like what little he did remember.

He thought after that perhaps he should avoid Cub; as it turned out, Cub had already left the flat (it _was_ midday, Wolf supposed). This might have been a blessing, but since Wolf couldn't quite remember everything that had happened, he wanted to probe the boy and try to discover just how bad it was.

He thought it was very bad.

_Eagle_ of all people had then shown up at his door to discuss training – just what Wolf definitely didn't want to talk about. The man had ummed and aahed for about twenty minutes before finally admitting he wasn't sure he was ready to go back. Eagle was far from an emotional person, but Wolf had still detected his own fear in Eagle's voice. Unable to handle it, he'd shot out some quick comments about not having a choice, and thrown Eagle out.

Just an hour later, he'd then received a call from Snake. The man was worried they were 'leaving Jackal out'. Wolf had asked if this was primary school. Snake had hung up.

By far the worst point of the day, however, was the phone call he'd received at around four o'clock.

"_Hello?"_

"_Good afternoon, this is the Royal and General Bank. This is to confirm on behalf of Sergeant Graves that your presence will be required at training in Brecon Beacons from the twenty-ninth of December for one month. You will be briefed on details of what will follow when you arrive. Do you understand?"_

_Wolf swallowed. "I understand."_

"_That is all."_

The twenty-ninth of December. That gave him – them – less than a week left. As he picked up the empty vodka bottle from beside his bed and carried it to the kitchen bin, he seriously doubted his ability to be ready for that point – physically and mentally. He dropped the bottle into the bin. He didn't know how he was supposed to lead a team in this state.

So when someone had knocked at the front door half an hour later, Wolf was in a less than positive mood. If it was Snake, he was going to slam the door shut in his face. He couldn't deal with petty concerns when there were more important matters at hand.

It was Ben.

Ben, too, had not had a good day. He'd had yet another appointment with his physiotherapist, who had told him his reactions _still_ weren't sharp enough. It was what Ben had been expecting, but there had been something in the flat tone of the man's voice...a tone that suggested someone had already contradicted him, and he wanted to make it clear he didn't agree. Ben wondered if he'd imagined it, but then he'd had an appointment with Mrs. Jones, who had told him Alan Blunt was very pleased with his progress. Ben had found the contradictory opinion. And he remembered Blunt's words before:

_"Try to get as fit as possible; we may need you on standby at some point."_

In contrast to Wolf and Eagle, Ben was eager to go back to the field. Maybe his reactions weren't as fast as they had been, but he knew with his SAS training he was fit enough. He was getting bored at a desk. It was time to _do _something.

That was when Mrs. Jones had dropped the bombshell.

_"K unit are going back to training on the twenty-ninth of December," she said, unwrapping a peppermint as she spoke. "Alex will be staying with you for the duration of their training period."_

_Ben stared. It wasn't that he minded in any way – and even if he had, being on desk duty at this point meant he was pretty much obliged to take whatever Blunt and Jones wanted to send his way – but something wasn't sitting right. Something..._

Wolf looked irritated when he opened his front door. "Fox, I'm not feeling too good, I'm just –"

"Mrs. Jones just told me you're going back to training on the _twenty-ninth_," Ben rapped out. "Is this true?"

He saw the muscles clench in Wolf's jaw. "Yeah. So what?"

Ben pushed past Wolf into the hall and pushed the front door closed. "Is Alex here?" he asked urgently, peering around. At Wolf's shake of the head, he continued. "She said you've agreed to Alex staying with me while you're away."

Wolf leaned against the wall. "So? That's all right, isn't it? Just didn't want to leave Cub in the cold grasp of Blunt and Jones..."

"And did they put up much of a fight, when you asked them?" Ben asked.

"They suggested it, and I agreed. No, I didn't put up a fight." Wolf wore an exasperated look. "Does it matter?"

"Doesn't it strike you as a bit odd that they suggested something they _knew_ you'd agree to for no reason other than you care about Alex?"

Wolf's eyes narrowed. "Not really; they couldn't suggest something I _wouldn't_ agree to. Anyway, I don't care about the kid that much."

If he hadn't been so worried, Ben would have laughed at Wolf's naivety and blatant attempt to lie – traits not usual in his former teammate. "That's the point," he said. "They could. You're not Alex's legal guardian; _MI6 is._ They can do what they want. And they only want to do things that suit them."

Wolf stared at him. "What exactly are you saying?" he demanded.

Ben sighed. "It's just...I'm nervous. MI6 have got me on standby when my physiotherapist says I need more recovery time. You're going away in _five days_, and Alex is being left with me. Does that sound just a bit too convenient to you?"

Wolf looked slightly ill, and Ben noticed he was clenching his fists. Then, without any warning, he turned around and punched the wall. His fist left an indent. Ben watched this calmly – it wasn't unlike Wolf to lose his temper – but inside he too was angry. It wasn't _fair_ – on any of them. Were K unit being sent back to training just so MI6 could use Alex? Or was Ben being paranoid?

"But if, as you said, MI6 can do whatever they want, how come they haven't just sent Alex somewhere whilst he's staying with me?" Wolf suddenly asked, as though reading Ben's mind.

"I _don't know_," Ben snapped, massaging his temples. "Sorry...I just...I could be reading too much into this. But I'm just worried about Alex. And I'm worried about K unit."

Wolf turned away. "We don't need worrying about."

Ben let out a harsh laugh. "Don't give me that crap. _None_ of you are ready for this."

"It'll be fine once we're back in training."

"_How can you know that?_" Ben shot out. "What if it's not? What if you're sent to Afghanistan, Iraq again – anywhere, and you all get killed because you're just not ready?" He paused. "What would happen to Alex?"

Something bordering irritation flashed across Wolf's face. "I'm not his goddamn mother, Fox." And then, under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like: _"Why are people so bloody over-emotional today?"_

Ben switched tactics. "I just think maybe you should ask for extended leave," he said, more calmly.

Wolf rounded on him. "We've _had_ extended leave. We've had extra-extended leave. If we don't go back now, we never will. I guess I'm a bit worried about the kid, but the team comes first."

"I thought Alex was part of the team?"

"Yeah," Wolf said, sounding bitter. "Just like you were."

Taken aback, Ben opened his mouth to say something else – it was usually Eagle who shot snide comments about his transfer to MI6 – but there came the sound of a key in the lock, and, as it opened, he saw Alex standing on the doorstep, holding a number of shopping bags. Red and green wrapping paper was sticking out of one of them. He caught sight of Ben first, and smiled, but then he saw Wolf, and his whole posture became stiff. The two didn't look at one another as Alex walked past them to his room. Ben's eyes narrowed at this, and he studied Wolf for several long seconds, but the man refused to look at him.

"What did you do?" he hissed as he heard Alex's door click close.

Wolf's head jerked up. "You assume it's something _I _did?" he whispered.

"Fine – what happened?"

He saw Wolf's jaw muscles clench and unclench. "I don't...I think he knows. I'm not sure, but I think he knows everything."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?"

Alex suddenly appeared again, preventing Wolf from answering.

"Are you staying for dinner, Ben?" he asked.

Ben looked at Wolf, and then back at Alex. "Not tonight," he said kindly, "I think maybe you and Wolf need to talk. We'll all be round early in the morning. Merry Christmas!" And before Alex could protest, before Wolf could stop him from leaving, he let himself out of the front door and slammed it shut behind him.

* * *

"_I think maybe you and Wolf need to talk."_

_Thanks, Ben._

Alex shifted his weight from foot to foot as Wolf tried to look everywhere but at him.

"Do you...want some tea?" he asked weakly, before mentally kicking himself. Was Wolf the type to drink tea to make him feel better? The offer was a reflex left over from years with Jack.

To his surprise, Wolf answered. "Coffee, if you're offering," he said. He still wasn't looking at Alex.

Trying to act as normally as possible, but glad for an excuse to turn away from Wolf, Alex went into the kitchen, filled up the kettle and put it on to boil. He got down two mugs, the coffee, and out came the milk from the fridge. The kettle boiled. He took his time stirring the coffee, but eventually he put a mug down in front of Wolf, who had sat down as the kitchen table, and took a seat opposite. There were no more ways to avoid talking.

Wolf gave it a good try, however, sitting in silence for several minutes, staring at his coffee. Alex took a sip from his mug and burnt his mouth. Enough was enough.

"It's not a big deal," he blurted out, and Wolf's head jerked up. "I mean, it obviously _is_, but you're not coping with it badly. You know, if I'd been in that situation, I'd've –"

"What?" Wolf's voice was harsh. "Jumped off a cliff? Given up your job? Or would you have turned to alcohol?"

"Everyone copes with it in their own way," Alex said carefully, but Wolf cut across him.

"_Bullshit._ This isn't coping. If it was coping, I'd be goddamn ready to go back to training in five days! _Do I look like I'm ready to go back to training in five days?"_

Looking at Wolf – bloodshot eyes, unshaven, and hair that was slightly too long – Alex had to admit that no, Wolf did not exactly look ready to go back to training. He brushed aside the question. "What makes you think that you're going back to training in five days? That's not what Jackal said, was it?"

"No, I got a phone call today from Mrs. Jones," Wolf spat, standing up and beginning to pace. "She's not even in charge of the SAS, but she seems to be calling all the shots."

Alex fell silent for a few minutes, digesting this. No one had informed him. What were MI6 planning to do with him while Wolf was away? With a sick feeling, he thought it could only mean one thing. He pushed the feeling away. It didn't matter right now. Unless Wolf pulled himself together, he'd be binned after one day of training.

"She wouldn't have done that unless she thought you were ready," Alex said, without much conviction, though he tried to sound reassuring. Heart to hearts with Wolf were _hard_.

Wolf snorted as this, at least demonstrating he was retaining a sense of humour. "This _is _Special Operations we're talking about. They've even got Ben on standby."

Alex might have been surprised, but having been given ten days of downtime after being shot himself, he thought this was rather generous behaviour for an intelligence agency.

"Look Cub," Wolf said, "I don't expect you to understand. You're a kid. You're not _supposed _to understand this stuff."

"I'm not stupid, you know," Alex said, annoyed at being patronised. "I do get it. I get that it's hard. But you're not the only one. I thought you were supposed to be a team – thought you were supposed to look out for each other. You're only thinking about yourself." He stood up, wondering if there was any point in continuing to talk to Wolf, the man was so self-absorbed. "So you found Snake. What about how Snake's feeling about all this? If you thought what you went through is hard, what about him? What about Eagle? Jackal, even?"

"Snake and Jackal _want_ to go back to training," Wolf snapped.

"Do they?" Alex raised his eyebrows. "Or is that just a front – trying to be brave for the sake of the team? Or perhaps they're sick of the team arguing and he thinks training will cure that. Perhaps they can see the benefits of training – _for the team_ – that you're ignoring."

"Now listen here," Wolf said, standing up, and for a second Alex thought he'd gone too far. But Wolf took a great shuddering breath, like he was trying to keep his temper. "Like I said, you're just a kid. You weren't there. You _don't know what it was like._"

Alex opened his mouth to argue again, but Wolf cut across him.

"I want to be alone," he said quietly. "Just...go out for a while, will you?"

It was Christmas Eve, and it was snowing. Alex stared at Wolf for several seconds, trying to keep his jaw from dropping open, and then abruptly turned away. He didn't know why he was so surprised. This wasn't his flat. Wolf wasn't Jack, or Ian.

He paused at the front door only to pull his coat on. Pulling it tightly around him, he yanked open the front door, and stepped out into the snow.

* * *

A bad day had just got worse.

He'd resorted to talking to a _teenager_ about his fears.

Like Cub would ever get it.

And yet... Wolf stood up from his chair, running his hand through his hair – he'd have to get it cut as soon as possible – and went into the sitting room. He wasn't sure what unsettled him more now: the fact he had to go back to training in five days, or the fact Cub _did _seem to get it. Perhaps more than he, Wolf, did.

_Don't be stupid; he didn't say anything that actually helped. He doesn't understand. He wasn't there._

But did he need to be? Wolf stopped in front of the window, watching the blizzard rage outside.

"_Snake wants to go back to training."_

"_Does he? Or is that just a front – trying to be brave for the sake of the team? Or perhaps he's sick of the team arguing and he thinks training will cure that. Perhaps he can see the benefits of training – for the team – that you're ignoring."_

Uneasily, Wolf rubbed the back of his neck. Team members had to all individually be fine before the team could function properly, right? That's why they had those stupid shrink sessions. To make sure _individually_ they were fine.

But still Wolf couldn't shake an unsettled feeling. He was supposed to be the leader of K unit. Had he really been thinking about the _unit?_ Or had he assumed that the unit would only be fine once he felt fine?

Snake...Wolf had assumed he must have got over what happened in Iraq. He _wanted_ to go back to training, and he constantly tried to stop Wolf and Eagle arguing, rather than joining in. It hadn't been him who had come round today – instead he'd been more worried about Jackal not being integrated into the unit – which must mean he was ready to go back, right? _Not necessarily_, Wolf realised. He turned his head to look at the photo of K unit – as it originally was – sitting on the mantelpiece. Snake looked carefree and happy – perhaps even more so than Eagle, in whom Wolf considered the biggest change to have taken place. He walked over to the photo, bending down to study it, feeling like he was playing 'Spot the Difference'. Snake was definitely thinner now, though perhaps that wasn't surprising, but there was something else...

The realisation hit him so hard he wondered how he hadn't noticed it before.

Snake didn't look _tired_ in the photo.

Was he wrong? Wolf searched his memory, trying to be certain that he was remembering Snake as he'd seen him the previous day. He couldn't _believe_ he hadn't seen it before. He was sure there had been dark circles under Snake's slightly bloodshot eyes...yet he'd been so used to it since they'd come back from Iraq that he hadn't even noticed. So if he clearly _wasn't_ all right, why was he so keen to get back to training?

Cub's words came back to him, and Wolf realised with some unease that the kid must be right.

He punched the door almost as a reflex in response to his frustration. How could he have been so _stupid?_ The changes in Eagle were obvious, because he was constantly arguing with Wolf – because his behaviour directly affected Wolf. But Snake had stayed out of it, just as Jackal had. Wolf still didn't know Jackal well enough to know if he'd missed warning signs in his other teammate too, but with Snake, because Snake's behaviour hadn't touched him, he'd been able to ignore it. And Snake was trying to get Jackal more involved because he, unlike Wolf, recognised that the team needed to help each other.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

How could it have been so obvious to Cub? Wolf pushed the thought aside, and picked up the photograph, studying it. He wanted his team back. He wanted to get to know Jackal properly – make him a proper replacement for Fox, not just an outsider. He wanted to stop arguing with Eagle. He wanted Snake to sleep again.

He wanted to _protect_ his team.

Wolf the team leader was back.

* * *

Sabina was disappointed when at eleven p.m. Alex said that he should go back to Wolf's.

"K unit's coming over early tomorrow morning," he said, "and I still haven't wrapped their presents."

"But I thought you said Wolf wanted to be alone for a bit?" Sabina fiddled with a strand of dark hair, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Yeah, that was," Alex checked his watch, "six hours ago. I don't think he meant me to stay out all night."

Sabina just nodded, but her face betrayed her emotions.

"I'll be round tomorrow evening," he told her, trying to be reassuring. "I've got to give you your present, haven't I?"

Sabina seemed to cheer up slightly at this. "It better be _really good_, Rider," she said, pointing a finger at him. Then her hand dropped and the crushed look was back. Alex sat down next to her on her bed.

"What is it, Sab? This isn't about me staying for another hour or whatever."

Sabina bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling. Alex saw her eyes glisten.

"I just don't want to spend Christmas with Mum," she whispered.

Alex frowned. "I thought she was in hospital?" He winced at how uncaring the words sounded. Sabina didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, Dad wants to go and spend the day with her. I just...I don't know if...it's just not _fair_!" she finally burst out. She stood up, facing Alex. "It was fine before...think back to Cornwall, to France. Never drank, did she?"

"Not really, no."

"Then we moved to America and boom! One ready-made drinking habit."

"It was probably a reaction to stress," Alex said, though he was suddenly feeling very uneasy. Was it anything to do with him? "You know, after everything that happened with your dad..."

"And me," she reminded him sharply, as though he had forgotten. She looked at him very hard for a second, before she turned away. Alex's heart sped up.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice very flat. She had clearly drawn the same conclusions as Alex.

Alex stood up. "If it helps, you can come over to Wolf's," he said, simultaneously thinking that he had no desire to expose Sabina to K unit and Ben.

"Maybe in the evening. I'll see." Sabina opened her bedroom door, inviting him to leave. "See you later, Alex."

As soon as the front door was shut behind him, Alex wanted to scream in frustration. Could he do _nothing _right? Wolf wanted him out, Sabina wanted him out...Jack had wanted out...

"Screw MI6," he muttered under his breath as he walked away from Sabina's. He'd never wanted to be in such a mess. If MI6 hadn't got involved, he could be sitting at home with Jack right now, watching some film on television and looking forward to the next day. He wouldn't even know K unit. He wouldn't know Ben.

And, now he thought about it, he wouldn't know Sabina. He'd met her as part of a mission at Wimbledon. But was it better to have such a good friend who was now angry at him, whose life had been irrevocably touched by his involvement with MI6, or not have that friend at all?

Alex felt miserable and wretched by the time he arrived back at Wolf's. He didn't want to celebrate Christmas. He didn't know how to make things right with Sabina. And a great weight had settled on his chest at Wolf's news that he would be returning to training in five days. What was MI6 planning to do with him?

_Is this what you wanted, Jack? To leave me at the mercy of Blunt and Jones? _Alex regretted the thought as soon as it had entered his mind. It wasn't Jack's fault. He didn't blame her. She'd put up with enough as it was.

He sighed as he twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open, suddenly feeling very tired. He wanted to go to sleep for a month, and when he woke up he wanted everything to be how it was before Ian had died.

Hence why he was less than pleased to see Wolf standing in the hallway as soon as he walked through the door.

Wolf, for his part, was shattered, but he'd waited for Cub to get back. He had assumed the kid had gone off to his friend's or something, but would come back to sleep. He expected Cub to be in high spirits, the way teenagers always were.

Cub saw him as he came through the door, but he immediately turned away, shutting the door and taking off his coat in silence. Wolf stared at him, trying to work out what was bothering him about the boy. Cub had said nothing, but that wasn't so unusual. His shoulders were slightly slumped, though – not what you'd expect when a teenager came back from visiting friends. Wolf pushed the thought aside and decided to plough on.

"Cub, I –"

Cub turned to look at him, and Wolf stopped dead. The kid looked..._fed up_. Like a normal teen, actually. But something – was it Cub's eyes? – suggested it went deeper than that?

"Yes?"

Wolf realised he was staring.

"I...er...just wanted to say thanks. For giving me a kick up the arse."

"Out of the plane?" Cub seemed confused. Wolf cringed at the memory of camp, but ignored it.

"No, tonight. I – you were right." The words felt foreign on Wolf's tongue; he _never_ admitted he was wrong. Yet he seemed to be doing it, to himself at least, more and more lately. "I'm supposed to be team leader. I've let my team down."

"That's not what I said."

"No, but you made me see it," Wolf persisted.

Cub just shrugged; he didn't seem to care. Wolf felt a prickle of irritation. It took a lot for him to thank someone, and even more so to admit he was wrong. To add to the humiliation, he was doing it to a fourteen year-old. And Cub was acting like he couldn't care less?

"I just wanted to say thanks," he said, still trying to be polite. "That's all."

"No problem," Cub returned. There was a second's pause and then: "Can I go to bed now?"

"Er...yeah, sure." Taken aback by the fact Cub was _asking, _Wolf moved aside to let him pass. Cub did so in silence, not even looking at Wolf, apparently completely absorbed in his own thoughts. Wolf stared after him, his brief flare of anger extinguishing abruptly. What was _wrong_ with the kid? He'd asked him to leave him alone nicely enough – hadn't been horrible. He'd said thank you to him. So what was the kid's problem?

Wolf gave himself a mental shake. Once again, maybe it wasn't all about him. Maybe the kid had other problems. He thought back to those pills he'd found – the reasons behind which were still not clear. Maybe they were anti-depressants or something.

He resolved to find out what was bothering Cub as soon as possible. And maybe at the same time he'd unravel some of mystery still surrounding the kid.

Alex awoke on Christmas morning to a loud bang.

* * *

He shot straight up in bed, heart hammering, already mentally searching for a weapon he could use before he'd even opened his eyes. When he did he found Snake and Ben standing in his doorway.

"Come on, Alex, rise and shine; it's Christmas and it's past ten o'clock. What're you still doing in bed?"

Alex groaned and slumped back against his pillows. "Are you serious? I was up until two wrapping _your _presents."

"Eight and a half hours' sleep is plenty," Snake started. "In the SAS you only get –"

"Presents?" Ben interrupted, looking aghast. "We've already sorted them all into piles! What do you mean there're more?"

Too tired to fathom Ben's enthusiasm for Christmas, Alex just pointed at the pile on the chair. He'd definitely had his doubts about some of them when it came to the wrapping, but by then it had been too late. And after seeing Sabina, he couldn't bring himself to care too much. He assumed they'd be too preoccupied with going back to training to take much notice of presents anyway.

"Come one, up you get," Snake demanded, yanking the duvet from him while Ben gathered up the presents. "For a start, Eagle's already demanding food. Can you do some breakfast?"

"But we don't have any eggs or anything."

"Don't you worry; I've got that covered," another voice said at the door. Eagle – his eyes looking brighter than perhaps Alex had ever seen them. "Bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns..."

"Eagle, you're not going to fit through the doors of the barracks at Brecon Beacons if you carry on," Snake pointed out.

Alex watched Eagle carefully for any reaction towards the mention of training, but there was nothing other than his answer:

"Hey, I ran here this morning!"

"I get the impression that was more for the food and less for the fitness," Ben commented in a dry voice as he pushed past Eagle, his arms full of presents. "Get dressed, Alex!" he called over his shoulder. "Lots to do; places to go!"

"Places to go?" Alex asked Snake and Eagle. Snake shrugged apologetically.

"We figured it wasn't worth the risk cooking a turkey, so we're going to the pub down the road. Now hurry up; I think even Wolf's getting impatient."

Alex couldn't imagine Wolf ever getting impatient about something as childish as Christmas, but sure enough, when he arrived in the kitchen, Wolf was there already, fully-dressed. It turned out he was just impatient for the food.

"Took your time," he said.

"Come on, everyone can open a present before breakfast," Ben said, arriving with a different pile to the one he'd left Alex's room with as Alex started to crack the eggs into a bowl.

Wolf rolled his eyes. "How old do you think we are? Five?"

"This is the way we did it at home," Ben said firmly. "Now, this one's from me to you, Wolf – hopefully it'll cheer you up a bit. Get rid of some of that Scrooge in you."

It was, to Wolf's horror and everyone else's amusement, a 'grow your own girlfriend'.

"What...the..._hell?_" Wolf spluttered, while everyone laughed. "I don't need this!"

"Aw, c'mon Wolfie, when's the last time you had a girlfriend?" Snake asked, putting his arm around Wolf's neck. Wolf threw it off.

"I just thought, y'know, she could keep you company in these cold winter nights," said Ben, and ducked as Wolf threw the box at him. Alex just looked on in astonishment. What had happened to these men in two days? They were behaving like _normal people_.

He voiced this to Ben as Snake pulled Wolf and Eagle into the sitting room to tell them what he'd got Ben. Since there was a lot of laughter coming from there, Alex assumed it wasn't good.

"What...er...I hope you don't mind if I ask, but what's going on?" he asked the older MI6 agent as he checked the sausages. "They're...they look like they're _enjoying _themselves."

Ben grinned. "We just agreed that no matter how anyone was feeling, this was the one day where we could forget about everything and have fun. Everyone seemed up for it. I think even Eagle's tired of arguing with people. Are you going to open your present?" He pointed to the table, where there was still a present left. "It's from me."

"Er...thanks," Alex said awkwardly, picking up the present, but not opening it for a few seconds. "You didn't have to get me anything, you know. It's on MI6's whim that we're even spending Christmas together."

"Yeah I know. Just open it."

Alex tore open the wrapping, knowing he had to at some point. It was box. Without looking at Ben, he carefully opened it.

Inside was a watch. A very nice-looking watch, Alex had to admit, and he did need a new one, but it seemed an odd thing for Ben to have given him. Then he looked inside the top of the box.

_Just a little something Daniels asked me to rustle up for you, old chap. He'll explain what it does. Smithers._

Grinning at the message, Alex rose his gaze to meet Ben's.

"Sort of similar to the one Smithers gave you in Thailand," Ben supplied. "Waterproof to one thousand metres. Date, time, alarm – all the usual stuff. But if you press the alarm button twice," he pointed to a tiny button on the side of the watch, "it'll send a tiny but powerful stun grenade here," he circled an area on the other side of the watch, "that's enough to knock out an adult male for two minutes. Enough for you to run." He winked. "This button – I expect you've seen something similar before – will send a distress signal to MI6. They'll be able to trace you. This one will shoot pepper spray out of the watch face, so for God's sake don't press it while you're staring at it."

Alex's grin widened. "That's awesome. Much better than what I got you, I think. Thanks."

"And this one," Ben continued, pointing out a grey button on the left side of the watch, "will send a location signal to me."

Alex looked at him curiously. "But the one to MI6 –"

"I'm not sure I trust Blunt and Jones when it comes to you," Ben said. His dark eyes looked grim and Alex felt an uneasy shiver ripple down his back. "If they've sent you somewhere...I want to make sure that _I _know you're all right."

Alex felt touched by this, but he couldn't help but continue to see flaws in Ben's logic. "What will you be able to do about it, though? I mean, if I were in any trouble."

"Look, Alex." Ben now looked so serious that Alex now realised why he'd waited until the others were out of the room to give him his present. "When I found you in Australia, I don't think you understand quite how frantic I'd been up until that point."

Alex thought back to the crushing hug Ben had given him when he'd jumped out of the helicopter in Australia.

"I don't want to think how many times you were nearly killed on that mission," Ben said, his voice low. "I just want to know someone's got your back, even if the intelligence agencies haven't."

Alex felt a sudden lump in his throat, and he swallowed. "I...thanks," he got out, feeling like the word had never conveyed so little and yet meant so much.

Ben shrugged, a smile on his face, but Alex still detected some uneasiness about him. "The heads don't know about it. The distress signal to MI6 will go to Smithers first. I'm just worried about you; I don't want MI6 to —"

"Is breakfast ready? I don't think I can take all this Christmas cheer on an empty stomach," Eagle said, coming into the kitchen, closely followed by Snake and Wolf, who smirked in Ben's direction. Alex quickly turned away, unable to fake a smile, pretending to check on the eggs.

"Yeah, pretty much," he said, opening the cupboard to get out five plates.

It took ten minutes of Snake and Eagle poking fun at Ben to get Alex to smile properly again, but he eventually relaxed, though the watch was still in the back of his mind. He wasn't even sure why it made him so uptight. Was it that Ben thought he _needed _help? Or that Ben cared enough to try to help? Or that Ben thought MI6 would be using him again?

He cheered up even more when he opened Eagle's present after breakfast.

"_Gun Point 2_!" he exclaimed. "I've wanted this game for ages." He inspected it closer. "It's for a PS2, though. Mine's at my uncle's house."

"No worries, I brought mine over." Eagle winked, and Alex almost did a double-take. Wolf looked incredulous.

"You _own_ a Playstation?" he asked. "You're not a teenager anymore!"

"Yeah, well," Eagle said, looking defensive. "It's a good way to keep up your fast reactions when you're on leave!"

Everyone laughed at this. "Oh, Eagle, if only the Sergeant could hear you say that," Ben said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Eagle leaned in towards Alex. "They're just jealous. Bet I beat you on it, though. We'll play this evening."

"You're on," Alex returned. Never in a million years would he have pictured himself in this situation when he'd been in Brecon Beacons.

He was mildly apprehensive when he got to Wolf's present. Wolf had just opened his – pink fluffy slippers, at which Eagle and Snake had howled and Wolf had glared. Under them, however, was hidden a Swiss army knife Alex had taken great care in choosing. He guessed the SAS would issue Wolf with one anyway, but this one was lightweight, had thirty different contraptions on it and was disguised as a marker pen. Alex had found it in a shop down a tiny lane – one Ian had taken him to several times. He wasn't exactly sure whom the shop catered for, and Tom and Jerry's eyes had nearly popped out of their heads when they'd seen some of the things the shop sold, but their presence had been necessary. Being only fourteen, Alex wasn't old enough to buy a knife. But his choice had been deliberate. Wolf might be a soldier rather than a spy, but after their experience in Iraq Alex suspected having disguised weapons might be useful to him. Wolf's mouth had dropped open when Alex showed him everything it did.

"Where did you get something like that?" he demanded.

Alex just smirked and accepted the present Snake passed him. It was labelled: 'To Cub, from Wolf.' Typical Wolf.

"I asked that girl – what's her name, Sabina?" Wolf said as Alex felt the present cautiously. It didn't _feel _like anything deadly, but then, he had no idea what sort of thing Wolf might have bought him. "But she wasn't that helpful. Suggested lots of things that just seemed too..._normal."_

That certainly made Alex apprehensive about opening Wolf's present. What he found when he ripped off the wrapping, however (and the fact Wolf had managed to find some paper and wrap his presents at all was a miracle in itself), was the last thing he'd been expecting.

It was a pre-paid term card for his karate club.

It had been wrapped several times, to give the appearance it was bigger, so by the time Alex got through all the paper, he was wondering what on earth it could be. He glanced up at Wolf, who was watching him carefully.

"How did you know which club was mine?" he asked.

Wolf shrugged. "Rang up a few in the Chelsea area and asked if they'd had a student called Alex Rider. Wasn't difficult. It's paid up until June."

"Thanks. This is...great. I really miss going." Wolf didn't grin or give him a wink the way Eagle had, but he nodded in Alex's direction. He certainly wasn't an emotional one when he was sober, Alex thought.

All in all, it was a very satisfactory day. Dinner was booked for half past five, so they snacked on chocolate for most of the day – "I won't be able to fit into my combats!" Snake had groaned – but by ten past five, Ben was looking at his watch and suggesting they left soon. Alex stood up from where he'd been sitting.

"I'll just go and get changed," he said. He'd been in jeans and a hoody for most of the day, but he thought he'd better smarten up a bit, even if it was just to put on a shirt and a jumper. Ben waved his hand.

"Go. We'll clear up this mess. If Snake and Eagle have _finally_ finished eating the Celebrations..."

Alex was laughing as he left them and went to his room, shutting the door behind him. K unit had surprised him, he decided as he pulled his hoody and T shirt off simultaneously. Perhaps it was the talk Wolf had had with them this morning, but there hadn't been a single argument all day. He found himself wondering how Jackal had spent the day, away from his unit. Did he have family? he thought as he opened the wardrobe and rifled through his shirts. He couldn't imagine it. Had he spent the day alone?

Alex was so absorbed simultaneously in his thoughts and choosing a shirt that he didn't hear Eagle telling Snake to take Alex's presents to his room for him to sort out. He didn't hear the quick footsteps down the hall, and there was a split second between the loud knock on his bedroom door and the door opening. Not enough time for Alex to pull anything on. As a result, when Snake walked into the room, Alex's torso was completely bare, exposing his chest. And the small round scar just off-centre.

There was no chance Snake hadn't seen it. He stared at Alex's chest for a full five seconds while Alex was rooted to the spot, heart pounding. Snake threw the stuff he was carrying down on the bed.

"What the hell is that?" he demanded.

"What's what?" Alex asked innocently, deciding that the only possible way out of this was to behave like nothing was wrong. Before he could react, however, Snake had put a hand on his shoulder and was forcibly steering him out of his room. Alex tried to stand still, but even a slightly thinner Snake weighed at least double what he did, and it had little effect other than to make Alex stumble slightly. Snake pushed him – not hard – into the sitting room, where Eagle, Wolf and Ben were still sitting. They stared at him, looking confused, and Alex turned away slightly so they couldn't see his chest.

"What's going on?" Wolf was the first to growl.

"_This._" There was nothing Alex could do to stop Snake twisting him around to face the others, short of knocking the man out cold. He tried not to look at any of them for several long seconds, but he finally looked down. Ben looked like he was having trouble swallowing, even though he'd already known about the bullet wound. Eagle was looking absolutely dumbfounded, like he didn't quite believe what he was looking at. Wolf looked red under his deep tan, and his eyes were glinting dangerously. Unfortunately it was him that spoke first. He stood up very slowly, approaching Alex.

"What the _fuck_ happened?"

* * *

A/N: Oh dear, I'm quite horrible, leaving it there. I promise VERY faithfully that you won't have to wait a ridiculous number of months for a chapter this time, though! I'm on my summer holidays, and whilst I have lots to do, there's lots more time for writing. Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Possibly I surprised even myself by getting this out so promptly. Don't expect this sort of treatment every time. Once more thank you _so much_ for all your reviews – I got the most ever for the last chapter, and some of the nicest I've ever received, so a big thank you to you all! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint – the 'scar revealing' scene is such an overdone one, but it must be done. This chapter is dedicated to Sarruby, who took the time to write me a very detailed review for chapter one, and made me determined to get this chapter out as soon as possible.

* * *

Chapter 14

Alex said nothing, his only response being to stare determinedly at a spot above Wolf's head. He'd been trying to avoid this conversation since he'd arrived at Wolf's, and even now, when he knew he had no other option, he was looking for a way to avoid it.

Understandably dissatisfied with Alex's response, Wolf closed the space between the two of them, so he was perhaps a foot away from Alex.

"That's a bullet scar," he spat. "We've all seen them – most of us have got one. The question is: why have _you_ got one?"

Alex pulled his gaze from the wall to stare Wolf straight in the eye. "Because I was shot?" he suggested.

"Answer the question properly, Cub!" Wolf looked like he was ready to hit something, but Alex didn't even flinch. "What were you doing in enough danger to be shot at?"

Alex gave him an incredulous look. "Enough danger? You were there in France. Wasn't exactly out of the line of fire, was I?"

He could see Wolf's jaw clenching and unclenching. "You weren't shot then, which means it's happened since. It was something else." Wolf turned around to face Ben. "Did this happen with you? You two worked together."

Ben just raised his eyebrows. "Don't be ridiculous, Wolf; I'm still having physio for _my_ injury, and it was nowhere near as serious as that. Don't you think Alex would be in and out of hospital still?"

Wolf turned back to Alex. He looked like he was thinking hard. "That's a point," he said slowly. "That's not just any old bullet scar. Mine's on my leg; Ben's is on his shoulder; Eagle's is on his arm. Yours is right above your heart."

"Which means it was either at very close range," Eagle started.

"Or that someone tried to assassinate you," Snake finished.

Wolf's expression went from fury to shock to horror to fury again in a matter of seconds. "Someone tried to _assassinate_ you?" he asked, apparently disregarding Eagle's suggestion completely.

Alex's patience snapped, unable to believe how unwilling Wolf was to accept the blindingly obvious. "You know someone poisoned me just a few days ago. You can't be that surprised it's happened before."

Apparently, however, Wolf _was_ surprised. "How often do people try to deliberately kill _you_, and you only?"

"Well, every time I make it worth getting rid of me, I guess," Alex said.

Eagle stood up now, coming over and standing next to Wolf. "This isn't a game," he growled, and Alex saw a glimpse of the ruthless SAS soldier. "How did you get shot? Who shot you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Ben give a slight nod. Ben thought he should tell them. Alex wasn't so sure.

"_Cub._ Answer the question!" Wolf snapped.

"It was a Scorpia sniper," Alex said reluctantly. "I was shot coming out of the Royal and General."

A stunned silence followed this. Snake was the first to find his voice.

"_Scorpia?_ That...that's a pretty big deal, Cub. What were you doing messed up with them?"

Alex shot a quick look towards Ben, but Ben's expression was unreadable.

"I don't...it's a long story," he said, raking a hand back through his hair.

"We've got all evening." Eagle crossed his arms.

Wolf, meanwhile, had clearly seen the look Alex had sent Ben. He turned to his former teammate again. "Did you know about this?"

"No, of course not." Ben's foot jiggled up and down and Alex wished he'd stop. "MI6 didn't mention it when we worked together."

Wolf looked at Alex again. "Was it Scorpia who poisoned you?"

"No," Alex said. "MI6 made a deal with them to leave me alone."

Eagle looked shocked. "You...they needed to make a deal? For _you_? To protect you from Scorpia?" He swallowed. "What did you _do?"_

Alex shrugged, looking down at the floor. Suddenly Eagle was right in front of him, inspecting the wound critically.

"It's not very old," he said. "Few months maybe? Are you having physiotherapy? What about pain killers...?" He trailed off and Alex could see comprehension dawn in his eyes. "I think we've just solved the mystery of the Lorcet," he said, stepping away again. He looked accusingly at Snake. "I _told_ you he wasn't a drug addict."

"I don't even need to take it," Alex said. "It doesn't hurt."

"I don't care if it _hurts!_" Wolf burst out. "You're _fourteen_. You shouldn't even _have_ a scar. MI6 – " He stopped very suddenly, looking between Alex and Ben, and he was silent for perhaps half a minute. "You worked with Fox _after_ you were shot," he said finally. "You must have done. He only left the SAS in July, and his first assignment wasn't until the beginning of September. You're moving far too well for it not to have been at least that long ago."

"So what?" Alex snapped. The pressure was getting to him now. They knew he'd been shot, but he didn't want them drawing any more conclusions. And he couldn't understand why they were so angry when they already knew he was occasionally targeted.

"MI6 used you _again_ after you'd been shot?" Wolf asked, his tone a mixture of outrage and incredulity.

Alex shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how much he could – or should – tell them. "It wasn't technically MI6. It was ASIS."

Another silence.

"You mean to tell me," Wolf eventually growled, "that it hasn't just been MI6 who have been using you, but other intelligence agencies as well? And that these are serious, potentially-deadly missions? Just how many missions have you been on, Cub?"

Alex swallowed. "I can't tell you that." He wasn't certain he really knew himself without counting.

Wolf looked, if possible, even more furious, but Snake came to his rescue.

"We know it must have been a lot, Wolf – he's missed a lot of school; you saw him in France; he's been involved with Scorpia; and he's worked with Fox. That might just be the start of it. But it doesn't matter. The question is: what're we going to do about it?"

Alex clenched his fists. Did they think he was a _child?_ "You can't do anything about it," he bit out. "It's actually none of your business."

"Alex, they're just trying to help," Ben said gently, but Wolf interrupted him, pointing a finger in his direction.

"No matter what they do, Fox, you are _not_ letting Blunt and Jones send him on a suicide mission. Because _that,_" he pointed the same finger at Alex's chest, "is what happens when they get their own way."

"I'm not just some _kid_ who needs protecting from the scary MI6 monster," Alex interjected. "I can take care of myself."

"Oh yes, you've really been taking care of yourself, Cub," Eagle said, letting out a false laugh. "That's how you ended up getting a bullet to the heart."

"I didn't _ask_ to be shot," Alex said. "But there's nothing you can do about it. I've already told MI6 we're through. I'm not working for them again."

"But it's not over," Eagle persisted. "Like you said, you were poisoned just last week. How do you explain that?"

"I _can't_." Alex massaged his temples. "But I've made it clear to Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones that I don't want to be involved with MI6 anymore. I don't see how you're going to improve on that in any way." He thought he saw Wolf shoot a worried look towards Ben, but he pushed it aside. It didn't matter. At the end of the day, if MI6 wanted him, they would blackmail him, and there was very little K unit could do about it. He just wanted it _left. _"Can I go and put a shirt on now, or would you like a few pictures for the mantelpiece?"

"You're staying right where you are," Wolf snarled, but it was Ben who interrupted this time.

"Wolf, don't be ridiculous. Let him get dressed; we can talk about this later. We need to leave if we're going to make this booking."

"You want to go and _have dinner_ after all this?" Wolf looked at him in disbelief.

"_Yes."_ Even Ben seemed to have lost patience."What good is grilling Alex going to do? As Snake said, you know he's been involved with MI6 a number of times. He can't tell you much more than he already has." He looked at Alex. "Go and put a shirt on and we'll go out."

Without waiting for anyone to protest, Alex slipped out of the room went back to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it. _Stupid, stupid._ He should have been more careful.

Back in the sitting room, Wolf was not happy.

"This isn't right, Fox," he hissed. "I was furious when he was poisoned, because it was MI6's fault. Now I find out this is a _recurring_ thing? He's a fucking _child_. Not some _machine._"

"_I know_," Ben snapped, standing up. "I've worked with him, Wolf – how do you think I felt when I found out how intelligence agencies are using a fourteen year-old?" He massaged his temples again. Wolf could be very trying when he felt strongly about something. "You need to get a grip," he said at last. "Yes, Alex is being used by the government. Yes, it's absolutely inexcusable. _But you don't do any good by getting angry about it._ It's already happened; you can't change that. The best thing to do is be there for Alex and try to stop it happening again."

Wolf was silent for a few seconds. Then: "He's been _shot in the heart_, Fox. How can you not be angry about that?"

"Of course I'm angry," Ben said calmly. "But I fail to see how forcing Alex to tell us about every grisly detail of every mission he's been on helps him at all."

Wolf fell silent again, and thankfully at moment, Alex re-entered the room, fully dressed this time. Ben tried to force the image of the round scar above Alex's heart from his mind. Of _course_ it was unacceptable, but they couldn't undo what had already happened.

"Shall we go then?" he said, trying to sound cheerful. As everyone turned around and started to leave the room in silence, however, Ben felt the smile fade from his face, and his mouth formed a hard line.

Blunt and Jones would _not_ be allowed to manipulate Alex again. Not if this was the outcome.

* * *

The next few days were uncomfortable for Alex. If he thought Christmas dinner had been bad right after they'd found out about his scar, it was nothing compared to the days that followed. Wolf prepared to go back to training. He came back on the twenty-seventh, having been out, with his hair shaven extremely short, looking much more like the man Alex had known at Brecon Beacons. On the twenty-eighth Alex spied Wolf packing a large military bag in his bedroom, and he supposed he'd better start filling his own suitcase. For the three days following Christmas, however, Wolf couldn't have said more than a dozen words to him, although Alex certainly heard the soldier talking _about_ him whilst on the phone to Ben.

"...back, he'd better damn well be in one piece, Fox!" A pause, and then: "Just tell them you need more physio and make sure they don't send Cub off anywhere!"

In a way, Alex was glad that at least someone had his back. It had always been Jack, but now she'd left, it was good to know he wasn't alone. On the other hand, he didn't _want_ Wolf's interference. It was none of his business. Wolf kept shooting dark glances towards Alex's chest, and Alex always turned away. Yes, he'd been shot by Scorpia. He didn't owe Wolf an explanation as to why he'd got involved with them in the first place. How was he supposed to explain about his father and Yassen and Ash and all the rest of it? He wasn't even sure he regretted going after Scorpia.

Ben turned up early on the morning of the twenty-ninth. Both Alex and Wolf had already been up for several hours. Alex had showered and dressed, and wandered into the kitchen to find Wolf white-faced, tight-lipped and staring into his coffee.

"Morning," Alex ventured, opening the fridge to find it completely empty.

"Left the milk on the side for you," Wolf grunted, possibly uttering the longest sentence he had spoken to Alex since Christmas Day.

"Thanks." Alex poured the milk over some cereal. Holding the bowl in one hand and spooning the cereal with the other, he turned around to face Wolf, leaning against the cupboards. He took in the combats and black T shirt Wolf was already wearing, the man's hunched shoulders and the cup of coffee that had stopped steaming. The man couldn't look less happy that he was going back to training.

"Do you like working in the SAS?" Alex blurted out before he could stop himself.

Wolf jerked his head up, momentarily taken aback by the question, but he soon answered. "It has its downsides. Of course it does. You've seen them these past few weeks." He let out a harsh laugh. "But if I didn't enjoy the job, I wouldn't do it. You have to _love_ what you're doing if it's your life at stake."

Alex was silent, mulling this over. He kept putting his life at stake – did that mean that he loved being a spy?

_MI6 keep manipulating you into it_, he reminded himself. _Or it's to find out about your family. It's not because you love _spying.

Wolf had been watching him. "Do you like working for MI6?"

Alex almost flinched. He hadn't expected Wolf to be so perceptive. He just shrugged. It wasn't like he had a choice. He regretted it as he saw Wolf's expression darken, but he hardly could have answered in the affirmative.

Thankfully, Ben arrived shortly afterwards. Alex went to answer the door, grinning as he saw the MI6 agent.

"Hey Alex," Ben said easily, and Alex found himself contrasting him to Wolf's reaction when Alex had turned up at his doorstep. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, just need to pack a few last things. Won't take five minutes." Alex left Ben to come in and shut the door behind him.

Ben stepped into the hallway, and, having shut the door, wandered into the kitchen, where he found Wolf dressed ready for training.

"Looking forward to going back?" Ben asked him, noting the half-drunk mug of coffee to one side. His former teammate shrugged.

"I guess."

Ben frowned at this response. "I thought you'd decided it was the best thing now?"

"Yeah."

Ben took a seat opposite Wolf, studying him closely. "You're worried about Alex," he guessed.

"A bit," Wolf admitted, and Ben knew in Wolf-speak that meant much more. "I'm also worried about the team – whether we're going to be as good as we were. I'm worried about going back into the field."

"You've got at least a month of training before you need to worry about that," Ben pointed out. "And during that month, the team will start working together again. Remember how rubbish we were at the start, and how much better we were even after a fortnight?"

Wolf shrugged again, and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"And Alex will be fine," Ben continued, inwardly hoping he wasn't lying. "MI6 are still taking extra precautions after the poisoning. I know it's hard to believe, but they're taking care of him."

Wolf looked sceptical, but he didn't say anything further, and a minute later, Alex arrived in the kitchen, carrying the same suitcase he'd had when Ben had picked him up from his house in Chelsea. It struck Ben that the kid had lost a _home_, really – he didn't have one anymore. Was this what MI6 planned to do with him until he was eighteen: push him around from place to place as different people went to do their jobs? Ben resolved to talk to Mrs. Jones about it. She, at least, seemed to have some semblance of emotion about Alex.

"Ready?" he asked, another easy smile in place.

Alex nodded, and his gaze slid to Wolf. "Bye, then," he said. "Um...thanks for letting me stay. I...er, hope Brecon Beacons is all right."

"Gonna be bloody cold," Wolf muttered, and then, slightly to Ben's surprise: "Er...take care, all right?" It was a loaded statement, but Alex just nodded, and turned back to Ben, who stood up.

"Take care of yourself, Wolf," he said. "Let me know when you're back. Give the Sergeant my love." He winked, and as he left the room, he heard Wolf say something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: "Bloody MI6 agents: think they're funny."

Alex was silent until they reached the front door, when Ben gave him his car key and told him to put his stuff in the boot and get in.

"Sure," the teen said, taking the key from him. Ben let him out of the front door and turned around to face Wolf, who he knew would be standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"I'll take care of him, Wolf," he said firmly.

"Just don't let Blunt and Jones get their hands on him." Wolf's jaw clenched. "He might be able to shoot a gun and survive assassination attempts, but it's still unethical. We volunteered for this sort of thing. I'll bet he didn't."

Had the situation not been so serious, Ben might have laughed at how far Wolf had come from the SAS soldier angry that he was forced _"to take care of some snotty rich kid"_ in Brecon Beacons.

"Alex'll be all right," was all he said on the matter. "Good luck."

"Yeah, you too, Fox."

And then Ben left the house, leaving Wolf standing in the hallway as he made his way to his car. He didn't look back as he got into the car, gave Alex a quick smile and put his seatbelt on. He just hoped to God he could keep his word to Wolf.

* * *

Living with Ben was a lot easier than living with Wolf, Alex soon discovered. For one thing, Ben's fridge was always stocked without fail. He didn't drink either – didn't even keep alcohol in the house. Unlike Wolf, he could also cook, though, like Jack, seemed to have a fondness for anything that could be prepared in under ten minutes.

Actually, Alex thought, as he watched Ben pour pasta into a saucepan, the man reminded him very much of his uncle. Ben obviously kept himself very fit; that morning, the first Alex had been there, Alex had heard the front door slam at six-thirty, and had shot out of bed, afraid something was wrong, but an hour later Ben had returned, dressed in trainers, jogging bottoms and a T shirt. He'd grinned as Alex gaped.

"Best time to go running," he said as he filled up the kettle. "I go around Hyde Park. You can come tomorrow, if you like."

Bizarrely, Alex found himself considering it.

Ben also had a study, which he'd politely but firmly 'suggested' Alex didn't go into.

"Nothing against you," he said. "But you know how it is. Government secrets and all that." He winked, and Alex found he wasn't even curious about what sort of secrets Ben was keeping in there.

"So what're your plans for New Years' Eve?" Ben asked as he served pasta and carbonara sauce with a side salad. "It's tomorrow, you know."

"A friend from school – Dan – is having a party at his house I thought I'd go to," Alex said. He'd not thought to check with Ben that it was all right, but Ben didn't seem to care.

"What time will you be back?" Ben took a sip of water. "Sorry, I meant to have you a key cut today. I'll do it tomorrow and give it to you. I'm going to a work thing; I'm not sure what time I'll be back – maybe four a.m. or so." He grinned. "Would have invited you if you didn't have anywhere to go."

Alex rolled his eyes. "That'd be great: seeing in the New Year with Blunt and Jones. Start the year as you mean to go on?" He paused as Ben laughed. "I don't know – think Dan's chucking everyone out at five, but I probably won't stay that long."

Ben nodded and went back to eating his pasta. Perhaps he was more easy-going than Ian had been, but there were undeniable similarities. Were all spies the same? Alex didn't remember Ben being at all like this when he'd been at Brecon Beacons.

"Why did you transfer from the SAS to MI6?" he asked suddenly.

Ben's lips twitched as though he was amused by the question, or had been expecting it. He put his knife and fork down. "Why do you ask?"

Alex shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "You seem to fit in really well with K unit. I just...I wondered why you would opt for working by yourself instead of with them...spying instead of fighting."

"I would say 'less dangerous', but so far I haven't found that," Ben said, amusement evident in his voice. Then he became thoughtful. "I guess I was always good at languages, debating, persuasion – anything involving oral communication. MI6 tried to recruit me when I joined the army and I turned them down. I didn't want a life of lies and solidarity."

"What changed?"

There was a pause, and Alex realised Ben had been avoiding directly answering the question.

"You don't have to tell me," he muttered. "I was just curious."

"No, no; it's all right." Ben took another sip of water from his glass, and set it down on the table again. "My...I had a brother. Two years older than me. He was killed in Khorramshahr in Iran in the summer whilst working as a journalist there, and..." He paused, and Alex noticed Ben was gripping his glass tightly. "It was a pre-meditated terrorist attack. I thought I could stop that sort of thing happening in MI6. I know that the troops out there are working really hard," he said as Alex opened his mouth, "but MI6 can give them the intelligence – can make a difference. In the SAS I just did as I was told – I didn't feel like I was _helping_."

"I'm really sorry," Alex said. "I didn't realise."

Ben shrugged, picking up his knife and fork again. "You couldn't have. It was the right decision, for a number of reasons other than that. For one thing I don't have to go on fifty mile treks through the rain and mud." He smiled easily, and Alex knew Ben didn't blame him for asking about his transfer. "That's not to say it's the right career for everyone, though. Why did you get involved with MI6?" The question was abrupt, clearly designed to steer the conversation away from himself. Alex was a master at it, but since Ben had been so open about his brother, he could hardly refuse to answer the man's question.

"Didn't really get a choice," he said.

Ben looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"My parents are dead; my uncle's dead. MI6 are my legal guardians." He paused. "Technically they can do what they like."

Ben must have known this was the case, since MI6 currently controlled where Alex lived, but he frowned, something clearly amiss in his mind. "But they must have given you a choice."

Alex swallowed his mouthful of pasta, suddenly uneasy. He didn't want Ben to pity him. "Yeah, sort of," he said carefully.

"What kind of choice?" Ben pressed. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he was good at oral communication.

"Jack's visa ran out," Alex said shortly. "I agreed to work for them if she wasn't deported." Put that way, it sounded more like a bargain than the blackmail it had been.

Ben studied him carefully. "What about after the first time? What about when you worked for the Australians?"

Alex put his knife and fork together, suddenly no longer hungry. "It was personal."

Ben opened his mouth, and then closed it again, as though his judgement had got the better of him. He finished the rest of his meal in silence, and then helped Alex to clear up.

"I've got some work to do before I go to bed," he said. "I'll wake you at six-twenty?"

Alex hesitated, and then relaxed. Ben was hardly going to interrogate him on a run around Hyde Park.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "See you tomorrow morning."

Once in his room, he closed the door firmly behind him, and made his way to his bed, slowly sitting down on it. Members of K unit – past and current soldiers alike – seemed to have the power to constantly surprise him. There hadn't been a hint of sadness in Ben when he'd talked about his brother, but there was certainly some sort of grim determination that was driving him. In Wolf it had just been anger. But that wasn't what was bothering Alex.

He stood up and crossed the room, to look at a map he'd pinned to the wall. He traced his index finger across the Middle East, crossing Pakistan, Afghanistan, and then across Iran, searching for Khorramshahr. He finally found it – what looked like a port city almost on the border with Iraq. Absolutely nowhere near Samarra. But why did everything keep coming back to this region of the world, to the Middle East? Alex wasn't stupid. He knew about the conflict and politics there, of course, and how important it was to international relations. But this wasn't politics. This was personal.

Snake had been kidnapped and tortured in Iraq – something that hardly happened to every soldier – and Ben's brother, a man who wasn't a soldier or a spy, had been killed near its border. Alex's mind turned back to the dying man he had questioned in the street before Christmas.

"_It – it's to do with Iraq. Max Lacey..."_

Alex sighed in frustration. Perhaps he should have told Ben the man had mentioned Max Lacey's name – whoever Max Lacey was. Perhaps Ben would have told him. He wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't told Ben everything in the first place, but it was too late now. Besides, it looked as though the whole sorry business was over – Alex had been beaten up, perhaps the cyanide had also been connected to what Alex had seen, but over a week had gone by, and they had managed to stay out of each other's way. He was in the clear.

Yet Alex still felt uneasy, and he looked back up at the map. Other than the general geographic area, there was nothing to suggest any of these events might be linked. And surely two events in the Middle East were as likely to be linked as two random events at opposite ends of England?

_No, because they're not necessarily connected in the same way that Ben and K unit are._

But even that connection didn't take account of this Max Lacey.

Alex shook himself, pushing his uneasiness away. He was becoming paranoid. There was no connection. The Middle East was important in politics, and it wasn't that surprising it kept coming up.

And yet a small voice, menacing, creeping up as though unbidden, like a forgotten memory, resolutely persisted:

"_I don't believe in coincidence. Where some people see coincidence, I see conspiracy. That's my job."_

But it wasn't Alex's job.

Was it?

* * *

Tulip Jones didn't often get dressed up. To look expensive – even good-looking – was to draw attention oneself, and Mrs. Jones strove to avoid that. That was why, every morning, she stepped out of her flat dressed like all the other Londoners around her: dark suitcase, non-descript handbag and a blank expression.

Yet tonight was the exception. Because to fail to dress up properly on New Years' Eve was asking for attention.

Looking in the mirror, however, dressed in a long black dress and diamond earrings, Mrs. Jones couldn't say she enjoyed the ordeal every year. The dress sat rather awkwardly on her, not quite accommodating her wide shoulders and hips. Her straight black hair had been scraped up, but somehow looked exactly the same as it always did – too dark and slightly unkempt. She certainly wouldn't be turning any heads tonight, but then that wasn't the point.

She turned away from the mirror, checking her watch. It was nearly time for her to leave, and there were more pressing matters she had to deal with than her appearance.

She went into the sitting room. There was still a pane of clear bullet-proof glass in the middle. It had worked so well after that business with Scorpia that Smithers had installed another. Mrs. Jones found it a mildly irritating but necessary addition to the only place where she could occasionally relax.

Her hand paused over the phone as she thought about Alex Rider. They still didn't know who had poisoned him. And though she hated to admit it – it was a weakness, Alan told her – she was worried about Alex. If they didn't know who had poisoned him, they were powerless to stop it from happening again.

Not quite powerless.

Mrs. Jones lifted the handset and dialled a number she already knew.

"Agent Limes, this is Mrs. Jones," she rapped out as the person on the other end picked up. "I know this is short notice, but I need you to follow Alex Rider this evening." She paused, listening to the agent speak. "No, not spy – you don't need to take notes. I just want an eye kept on him. Watch out for anything suspicious – he's being targeted."

As the agent confirmed his acceptance of the task, Mrs. Jones bid him a Happy New Year and put the phone down. Pursing her lips together, she thought of Alex again, and the way his expression had hardened when she had entered his room in St. Dominic's. Alex Rider, child spy extraordinaire, was no longer a child.

She just hoped Alan knew what he was doing.

* * *

Two hours later, Alex found himself surrounded by people at a party a month ago he'd have thought he had no chance of attending. A couple of people had jokingly done a double-take when they'd seen him, but most were used to him being around now. Sitting between Sabina and Tom on Dan's sofa, he wondered if this was how he wanted it. He was beginning to feel normal again – or at least like he could reconcile one life with the other. He laughed as Ellie 'accidentally' hit Craig with the Wii controller as she took a tennis shot, but at the same time it felt like something was missing. Was it the fact Sabina was still cool with him? Or did he miss Jack?

Yet Jack had left because she didn't believe he'd ever escape MI6 – possibly because she thought he didn't _want_ to escape. Was that true? Was that what was missing?

"Alex, dark place." Sabina's words sounded almost automatic, but at least it showed she wasn't _too_ angry with him. Alex decided to take the opportunity to clear the air between them.

"I've still got your Christmas present," he told her. "Do you want it?"

Sabina seemed to hesitate for a second, before giving a small smile and nodding. "Sure. Shall we go outside?"

Nodding, Alex stood up, letting her lead him out to Dan's back garden. It was empty, everyone else inside playing games, chatting or dancing to music. The house was on a corner, by the road, and the gate was open (_"If you want to smoke, do it outside the garden – my parents will flip if they find cigarette butts everywhere!"_), but no one was around; the roads were quiet. At least it had stopped snowing a few days before, and the temperature was milder; Alex could get away with wearing a light jacket outside.

"Listen, Alex, I'm really sorry about Christmas Eve," Sabina said as Alex opened his mouth. "I don't...it's not your fault about my mum. A big part of that was my dad's accident, and that was really nothing to do with you. You just helped to track down the man who did it." She paused, and Alex got the sense there was more coming, so stayed quiet. "But I don't know...I don't think we should see each other...like that. I might be moving back to England, but I don't know whether I can handle you always going off places. Maybe you won't come back one time."

Alex fought to keep his expression blank, but he thought perhaps his eyes betrayed him because Sabina was suddenly avoiding his gaze. Of _course_ a girlfriend wasn't practical – he had already come to that conclusion in hospital – but he liked having Sabina around, he sort of liked what was going on between them (even if he wasn't sure what that was), and this wasn't a discussion he wanted to have. He clenched his fist by his side, and then released it.

"It's fine," he muttered. "I've got your present, anyway."

Sabina appeared to take the wrapped box half-reluctantly, as though afraid it would make her change her mind. Not wanting to look at her while she opened it, Alex looked away, towards the road.

It was the first of a series of mistakes he made that evening.

For walking across the road, head bent low against the bitter wind, but striding still purposefully, was the man in the long coat.

Alex stared for several seconds. Was it definitely the same man? Lots of people wore long coats during the winter. But this was the same brown trench coat, and the man wore a black trilby hat as before. And the build was the same... But what was he doing here? In this quiet but well-off street in West London?

_Just leave it_, he told himself firmly. _The first time you followed him you got cornered, and the second time you could've been shot. This isn't the time or the place._

Yet as Sabina ripped off wrapping paper next to him, he knew he couldn't just leave it. There were so many unanswered questions. Was the man going to kill someone else this evening? Alex couldn't let that happen. But, at the same time, the fact this man kept appearing wherever Alex was just didn't make sense. He knew it could be a trap. Alex considered it for a second, watching the man disappearing down the street, before he turned to Sabina.

"I have to go somewhere for a bit," he said urgently, quietly. "Cover for me?"

Sabina stared at him, holding a black box without opening it. The wrapping paper lay abandoned on the ground. "What?"

"I need to check something out. I'm sorry. Tell Tom I'll be back soon." And, seeing the man was getting further away and disappearing around a corner, Alex took off at a run.

Sabina stood stock still, and watching Alex's retreating back. _What now?_ she thought irritably. He'd left her at his friend's party, but that wasn't what irritated Sabina most – she could take care of herself. It was the fact Alex had clearly disappeared off to do some sort of _spying _without any sort of explanation. This was precisely what Sabina had meant.

She looked down at the black box she was sitting holding in her left hand. It was clearly some sort of jewellery box. She opened it. It was a silver chain and pendant – a heart interwoven with silver vines. Simple, and yet complex. Sabina hadn't realised Alex had such good taste.

She snapped the black box shut, fighting to keep her resolve. _He's not good for you_, she told herself. _Not a good idea_.

Pocketing the black box in her black leather jacket, she turned back to the house. She was young, single and hot, and Alex was gone for a while. Who said she couldn't have a bit of fun?

* * *

Ducking behind a wall as the man ahead looked over his shoulder, Alex wondered if this had been such a good idea. Then again, he thought, how many people looked behind them when they were walking, unless they were nervous about being followed? He threw a quick look over his own shoulder. He didn't know if he was being paranoid, but he also had the uncomfortable feeling he wasn't the only one doing the following.

He pushed it to one side as the gap between him and the man ahead began to widen again. He'd decided to do this: now he had to see it through.

He couldn't have been following for more than another minute, however, when the man stopped outside the gate of a house, went in and up the drive, and let himself in. Alex halted very suddenly, trying to work this out. Did the man live there? Was this just a waste of time? He saw a light go on in the front window, and the curtains close, and made up his mind. It was unlikely the man had anything planned, but this might be the only opportunity Alex got to find out who this man was and why Alex kept seeing him. He jumped over the gate to avoid it creaking, and, keeping low to the ground, ran to the tree closest to the house – an evergreen – the branches of which very nearly touched the upstairs windows. He hoisted himself up into the tree, keeping his back to the house, and waited.

He heard the squeal of the gate before he saw anyone coming. He'd been right. Someone _was _following him. Peering between the leaves, he saw a man dressed in black looking around, and he was grateful the snow had melted, leaving no trace of his footprints. This man clearly hadn't seen where he'd gone. It was why Alex had deliberately scaled the tree on the opposite side to a street view. Still, he wished the man would move. He didn't want the man inside the house to see he had company. His follower was clearly an amateur, or he didn't realise that Alex had also been following someone. The question was: how was Alex going to get rid of him?

What Alex did next was either very daring or very stupid.

As the man slowly walked around the front garden, Alex positioned himself. Then, as his follower came closer to Alex – in fact, so he was directly beneath where Alex was crouched in the branches – Alex launched himself out of the tree.

He landed on the man hard, and his follower let out an _"Oomph!"_ as he went out with a thud. He immediately started struggling to get up, hitting blindly up at Alex. Without hesitating, Alex delivered a strike to the side of the man's neck. The body underneath him went limp, as anticipated. Not wanting waste time, Alex stood up, and began dragging the man over to the nearest bush, keeping an eye on the house to make sure no one had heard.

What Alex had done was to deliver a blow to a pressure point that would render the victim unconscious without causing any lasting damage. The pressure point Alex had targeted – one below and slightly in front of the ear – was one he'd learned from his time at Malagosto. Mostly they preferred the ones that _did_ cause lasting damage, but Alex had persuaded them to teach him about the ones that didn't too, and he was glad for it now.

Having safely stowed the unconsciousness man in a bush, he resumed his position in the tree, wondering if what he was planning would work. Luck seemed to be on his side that night however, and there was really no harm in trying. Unless he fell and broke a limb, of course.

Pushing the thought away, he carefully edged along a branch towards the window. The branch didn't quite reach, but he felt confident he could make it anyway. As he got closer to the window, however, the branch began to bend, and, as he reached the end, there was a nasty cracking sound. Heart pounding, Alex launched himself at the window sill.

He'd misjudged it, and caught the edge of the windowsill with his fingertips, but at least the branch hadn't broken completely. That would definitely have attracted attention. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up so he was leaning on the windowsill with his forearms, and, with one hand, tried to yank the window up.

Alex was lucky again. The window was unlocked. Allowing himself a sigh of relief, he then hoisted himself up further, and through the window, wiggling through, upper body first. He landed as softly as possible, and pushed the window down, closing it.

He found himself in a room shrouded in darkness, but there was an orange glow from the street lights outside, and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a double bed and bedroom furniture. His gaze searched the surfaces, but they were bare, except for a few lamps, a few ornaments. No photographs; nothing to tell him about the man who lived here. Perhaps it was a guest room.

Alex lightly crossed the room, and inched out onto the landing, which was also dark, though a light was on downstairs. There was no sign of anybody, and he thought he could hear a voice downstairs, so he continued down the landing.

The house wasn't large; there were only four rooms upstairs. This bothered Alex for some reason, without quite being able to put his finger on why. Perhaps it was because the villains he usually went after were always ridiculously rich and preferred mansions to small houses. Leaving the thought for the moment, he pushed open the next door along. It was another bedroom, and, like the last one, completely devoid of any personality. Frowning, Alex continued. The next room was a bathroom, but the next was locked. Alex twisted the handle both ways, but nothing. He bent down and inspected the lock. It looked new, like it hadn't been installed too long ago. It wouldn't have been difficult to pick open, but Alex hadn't come with anything he might be able to use. As he was pondering how to get into the room, however, he heard a stair creak. Someone was coming.

Silently, as quickly as he could without making a noise, Alex threw himself towards the bedroom he'd come from, and did the only thing he could. He hid in the bottom of the wardrobe.

Another second and he would have been caught. As it was, he heard heavy footsteps come into the room, and instinctively he pressed himself back in the wardrobe, so he was covered by coats and jackets, blood pounding in his ears. He forced himself to stay completely still. It really would be the last straw if he caused an avalanche in the wardrobe.

He heard a rustling, and he moved just his head so he could see through the gap in the wardrobe, where light was flooding in. He could just about make a shape moving around, and to his slight unease he thought it was a rather large shape. Not one he might come off better against in a fight. To his great relief, however, after a few minutes, the heavy footsteps got lighter, seemingly leaving the room. Alex waited for a few minutes, but he heard a door slam and then, he thought, the sound of running water. Cautiously, he pushed the wardrobe door open and looked out. The coast was clear. Alex climbed out of the wardrobe. The room looked exactly the same, but the light was on and there was a pile of clothes on the bed. Creeping out along the landing, he found the bathroom door was closed, and, from what he could make out, the running water he could hear sounded like someone was in the shower.

He went along to the locked door again, trying to open it. It was still locked. But if he could get hold of the key...

Alex went back to the bedroom. The man's trench coat wasn't there, but his – rather large-looking – trousers were, and they jangled slightly as Alex picked them up. The left pocket revealed only loose change, but the right produced a set of four keys, one of which was clearly a house key. The others, however, looked like distinct possibilities.

Back at the locked door, the first key was a no-go, but the second one turned, and Alex felt the lock click. He paused for a second, making sure the shower was still running, and then let himself into the room and closed the door softly behind him.

The room was completely black, and Alex groped for a light switch. As light flooded the room, he saw it was some sort of study. There was a stack of paper on the desk, and Alex immediately went to it, shifting through.

None of it made much sense to him. There were meaningless headings like _"Operation Nicholas II"_. Was the guy a history nerd? But as he reached the bottom of the pile, Alex came across a list of phone numbers. He knew they _were_ phone numbers from the way they were structured, but there were no names next to them, and they clearly weren't UK numbers. Taking out his phone, Alex quickly punched the first number in and saved it. He'd find out who it was later.

Putting the pile of paper back, Alex then turned to the desk drawers. They were full of files. Alex selected on at random, and opened it. The first sheet was a map, but it wasn't exactly clear of what. He checked the front of the file, but there was no label – nothing indicating what the file might contain. He looked at the map again. It was one line, an arrow, going in right angles around the page. Alex wouldn't have know it was a map, only that on each line before it turned, there were tiny labels of '50m', '75m' and so on. He flicked to the next page. It was a map identical to the first. On impulse, Alex took the second, folded it up and put it in his pocket. He might have no idea what it was, but perhaps MI6 would.

Alex paused for a minute, thinking about MI6. Surely they'd be interested – this man had killed at least two of their agents. But who _was_ this man? Alex replaced the file and shut the drawer, looking around the room again. Why was there nothing that gave anything away about its owner? Not even a letter, a bank statement or a photograph was out – something that struck Alex as very odd, considering the door had been locked. Whoever this man was, he was paranoid.

Alex pulled open the drawer of the filing cabinet, looking for something – _anything_ – that might give him a clue; might make this all worthwhile.

Then a phone rang.

Alex's heart jumped into his throat, and he turned, seeing the landline on the desk. He heard the door next door open – _why_ hadn't he noticed the shower had stopped? – and footsteps leading away. Was the man going to get the key for the office? It wouldn't take him long to notice it was missing.

Alex was already at the window when the phone stopped ringing, and he heard a low voice without being able to make out what he was saying. He was safe for now, but how long would that last? Two minutes? Five? He needed to get out of the house. But as he looked out of the window, there was absolutely nothing to break his fall except concrete. Alex swore under his breath, and went to the door again, cracking it open, listening. He could still hear a man's voice, and he still couldn't make out the words, which must mean that he was far away. Far enough away for Alex to make it downstairs? It was a risk he had to take. He edged out onto the landing again, and slipped down the stairs to the hallway.

Then Alex made his biggest mistake of the evening. Spotting a photograph, unframed, on the hall table, he couldn't resist. It might be his only hope of working out who the man was. Should he take it? Surely someone would notice it was missing.

Alex finally pocketed it, but he'd hesitated for too long. Suddenly someone grabbed him from behind, holding him tight, and he let out a yell, struggling furiously.

"You thought you could just break into my house, Rider?" a voice hissed in his ear. "Wasn't two warnings enough?"

Alex tried to turn his head, tried to see the man's face, but he was being held too tightly.

"I'd decided not to kill you yet," the voice continued, "since you were proving rather difficult to get rid of. Unfortunately for you, I'm now obliged to. Who knows what you've found? Just one snap of the neck, and you'll be dead. It'll be a pity, I'm sure, but life goes on. Well, not for you, as it happens."

The man was clearly very strong, and Alex had no hope of overpowering him. Instead, he did the only thing he could – he jabbed his elbow sharply backwards.

He hadn't managed to get much power behind it, but he knew where to strike, and it was enough. The grip on him loosened, and Alex fell towards the door, yanking it open without pausing to look back. He felt a hand grab his coat, but he wriggled out of it, and sprinted down the front garden, vaulting the gate. As he ran along the pavement, flat out, he heard footsteps behind him, and knew he was going to be caught soon. A boy's stride was no match for a man's.

Then a car came trundling down the road. It wasn't going fast – perhaps thirty miles per hour? – and Alex made up his mind. It was this, or certain death. He kept running on the pavement towards the car, until the two had nearly met, and then, waiting until the last possible second, he threw himself in front of it.

Robin Russell was a man of forty years of age, married, with no children. He was on his way to meet his wife at a party, having worked late at the office – again. She wasn't happy with him, so he'd bought her some flowers. Unfortunately, it was now just six minutes to midnight, and it would take him five to get to the party from where he was. He might even miss the New Year, and that really would make her angry. Still, being the overly-cautious driver he'd always been, he refused to speed.

The last thing he needed, therefore, was a teenage boy to hurl himself in front of his car. He saw the boy before he did it, running along the pavement and...was that someone running after him? Before Robin could register what was happening, the boy was in front of him, he felt the impact, and the boy was tossed up into the air, hit his windscreen and then his bonnet, and, as Robin skidded to an emergency stop, dropped down onto the road again.

Robin immediately got out of his car, his hands shaking. Had he just _killed_ a teenager? He hadn't had any time to stop – the boy was on the pavement, and suddenly in front of his car!

The boy – blond, and he looked young, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen – wasn't moving when Robin got round the front of the car, and there was a nasty cut above his eye and on his lip. Heart hammering, Robin looked around for someone – anyone (where was the person who had been running after the boy?) – but there was no one to help. Robin pulled out his phone, his fingers fumbling with the buttons as he dialled 999. He tried not to look at the boy, feeling sick to his stomach.

"_Which emergency services do you require?"_

"An ambul –" was all Robin got out, before the phone was suddenly snatched out of his hand. He looked down to see the boy still lying down, but with his eyes open, and clutching the phone. He saw the boy hang up.

"Don't," was all the boy said.

"But...what're you – you're hurt!" Robin spluttered.

"I'm fine," the boy said shortly, in a low voice, almost a whisper. "Now, I'll forget all about this – I swear I won't tell anyone – if you just do me a favour and drop me at my friend's house."

Robin looked at his watch. Three minutes to midnight. He wasn't going to make it. His wife would never forgive him, but perhaps if he explained he was helping this boy...

"Where is it?" he asked suspiciously, still a bit unnerved by this teenager who'd thrown himself in front of a moving vehicle and was now calling the shots.

"Less than five minutes. I'll tell you the address. Let's go." Without waiting another second, the boy hauled himself up from the ground, and went to the passenger side of the car. Robin stared for a second, before going to the driver's side.

That's when he heard a gunshot, and a bullet came whizzing past his head.

"_In!"_ the boy shouted, and Robin fell into the car, fumbling slightly as he pulled the door shut. There was another gunshot, and the boy threw himself in next to him.

"_Drive!"_

Robin wasted no time in started the car, letting out a moan as there was another gunshot and his back windscreen splintered.

"Go," the boy said urgently, and Robin put his foot flat on the accelerator, skidding around the first corner he came to, and then the next one.

"I think we'll be all right," the boy said next to him, peering at the car wing mirror on his side. "I don't think anyone's following."

"What...who..." Robin got out, keeping his eyes on the road whilst simultaneously trying to stop them from falling out of his head.

"It's Amherst Avenue, first right and then second left, down the end of the road," the boy said, ignoring Robin completely.

Robin did what the boy said – what if he had a gun too? – but he couldn't help give the boy a sideways glance.

"Who _are_ you?" he said.

"Tom Harris," the boy said immediately. "Who're you?"

"Robin...Robin Russell," Robin answered, a bit taken aback by the boy's honesty. He'd expected him to avoid the question.

He pulled up at the end of Amherst Avenue, and the boy undid his seatbelt. "Thanks. Sorry about your car. Your name's Robin Russell, right? I'll try to get someone to sort it out."

"Well, do you want my insurance details or anything?" Robin asked, surprising himself by asking such a sensible – and normal – question.

"Don't worry; we'll find you."

And without another word, the boy got out of the car, leaving Robin staring open-mouthed at the space he'd just vacated.

Alex could already hear the countdown to midnight as he limped as fast as he could towards Dan's house.

"_Ten...nine..."_

He couldn't pretend being hit by a car hadn't hurt, but on reflection, it probably wasn't as bad as when he'd been hit by a train. He hadn't expected the gunshots, but perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. The man had said he was going to kill him, and he hadn't sounded like he was joking. Doing the unexpected – throwing himself in front of a car – however, had clearly surprised his follower enough to buy Alex a minute or so – enough time for him to convince Robin to look after him.

"_Eight...seven..."_

He slipped through the garden gate again, closing it behind him and locking it – as though it would keep anybody out who wanted to get into the house.

"_Six...five..."_

Painfully, he dragged himself into the house, simultaneously trying to wipe the blood from his lip and above his eye. Didn't want questions to be asked.

"_Four...three..."_

He paused outside the living room and forced himself to straighten up and walk normally.

"_Two...one..."_

He caught Tom's eye as he entered the living room, and immediately fifty party poppers went off at once.

"_Happy New Year!"_

Alex joined in the chant, his gaze shifting around the room, trying to pick Sabina out. He saw her standing with Craig, and her eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of him. Did he look that bad?

"Where've you been?" Tom demanded in a low voice, as soon as he'd pushed through the people between him and Alex.

"For a walk," Alex said vaguely.

"You look like you've been hit by a truck," Tom told him.

Breaking eye contact with Sabina and looking at Tom, Alex couldn't help but give an amused smile.

"Actually, it was a car..."

* * *

A/N: That might possibly be the longest chapter yet, at nine and a half thousand words. Most of it was written very late at night, since that's the only time I get to write, so try not to be _too_ harsh. I also don't know West London terribly well, so apologies if you live there, and my descriptions are not at all accurate – I did as much research as I could! Things look set to heat up even more next chapter, so stay tuned, and please, if you're enjoying it, leave a review!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, I've been off travelling. On the plus side, it did give me an opportunity to do a little research, a little planning, and I also knocked out a one-shot by hand that I typed up last night and posted this morning, so if you have time, take a look. Once again, many thanks for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. Lots of Alex, Ben, Blunt and Jones, so it could be a little livelier, but we've gotta save _some_ of the action for next time ;)

* * *

Chapter 15

"You were run over _by a car?_"

Ben stopped pouring his coffee to stare at Alex, despite the fact his mug was only half full.

"I wasn't _run over_," Alex said defensively. "We just...collided."

Ben gave him an incredulous look, and if to say 'that makes all the difference'. "What the hell?" he demanded. "I thought you were going to that party?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the kitchen table. Being scolded by Ben was very like being scolded by Jack, he decided.

"I was," he said. "I popped out for a bit."

"And what, decided to throw yourself in front of the first car that came along?" Ben put his coffee and muesli down on the table and took a seat opposite Alex. "Care to explain?"

Alex didn't, really, having heard Ben's exclamation upon seeing him that morning. Alex had purposefully left the party early to make sure he would beat Ben home, and had taken a shower and gone to bed straight away, but when he'd woken up, aside from feeling like he'd taken a severe beating, he'd had several nasty bruises, and a cut above his left eye that was difficult to hide. Still, he knew he would have to come clean to Ben anyway, since he wanted answers, and somehow he had to pay Robin back for the damage to his car. Somehow.

"Well, I was in the garden with Sabina," Alex started, ignoring the way Ben raised his eyebrows at this. "And I saw that man...the one who killed that agent. So I followed him."

"Alex!" Ben leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing his temples. "Why didn't you just call MI6?"

"It's not like I have a line to Mrs. Jones." Alex took a gulp of lukewarm coffee.

"But you have my number. You knew I was at a party with colleagues."

Alex didn't have an answer to that. "I didn't think," he said.

Wolf might have rolled his eyes at this, but Ben looked deadly serious. "You should have called someone," he repeated. "Go on. You followed him."

"Yeah," Alex said slowly, trying to assess Ben's tone. Other than the seriousness, the man's face gave away no clues. Was there something Alex didn't know? "He went to his house. At least, I think it was his house."

"His house?" Ben said sharply. He sat up straight. "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes," Alex said without hesitating. "It wasn't far from Dan's."

Ben studied him for several seconds, and then stood up, abandoning his breakfast, which he hadn't touched.

"I think we'd better call Mrs. Jones," he said.

* * *

An hour later, Alex found himself sitting in the Royal and General, wondering if MI6 _ever_ had a day off. It was New Years' Day, but even the receptionist was there. The actual bank part of the building – which, Alex had discovered several months before, was a real bank – was of course closed, but Ben had taken him round the back and let him in a side door.

Ben was sitting next to him now, studying some documents. They'd only been waiting for ten minutes or so, but Alex was sure Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones just wanted to make him stew. How many appointments could they possibly have on the first of January?

Just as Alex was thinking this, the receptionist looked up. "Alan Blunt will see you now," she said. She said nothing else. Presumably she'd been there long enough to recognise Alex and Ben, and thought they knew where they were going.

Ben was silent all the way up to the office. In fact, he hadn't said very much since he'd phoned Mrs. Jones. He was almost behaving as though he was angry, though he hadn't said anything to Alex that implied as such. Alex had overheard him having some sort of an argument with Mrs. Jones when he'd called her; it seemed she wanted Alex to come in alone, whereas Ben was determined to go with him. Alex wasn't sure he wanted Ben to come, and he didn't understand why Ben was so keen. Curiosity? A feeling of responsibility? Either way, he didn't want to anger Ben further by telling him exactly what had happened the night before.

"Good morning, Alex." Alan Blunt spoke in as much of a monotone as always. Alex wondered if the Head of MI6 had achieved such consistency through nature or practice.

"Please take a seat," Mrs. Jones said. She smiled pleasantly, but her eyes were dead – nothing behind them. "I understand you have some information for us." If she was surprised at Alex's slightly beaten appearance, she didn't show it.

"Yeah." Alex slowly sat down. Ben sat in a chair to one side. "I was at a party last night, and I saw a man in the street I've seen before, who – "

"Yes, yes; the one you saw kill our agents," Blunt said. He seemed impatient, which was perhaps an improvement on being completely devoid of any emotion.

"Yes. I followed him to his house," Alex said, trying to remember the details. "Burghley Street, W1. I think it was number 5. It had a big evergreen outside it, anyway, near the house, because I climbed it to get into the upstairs window."

"Have you got that down?" Blunt rapped out at Mrs. Jones. She was scribbling away with a pen, and nodded.

"Then I realised I was being followed – the person came into the front garden, and – "

"You knocked him unconscious," Blunt said, and Alex stopped up short, surprised.

"How do you –"

"That was _our agent_ we had following you," Blunt said, glaring. "He was there for your protection. And what did you do? You _knocked him unconscious."_

This was definitely news to Alex, and he stared at Blunt for several seconds. "He wasn't _acting_ like he was there for my protection. In fact, he behaved very unprofessionally."

Blunt opened his mouth again, but Mrs. Jones cut across him. "Well, you weren't to know," she said hastily. "Agent Limes is fine, in any case, though perhaps next time we'll tell you when we assign you an agent. Please continue."

Still slightly unsettled by the fact his follower had turned out to be from MI6, Alex went on, describing the house, his hiding in the cupboard, and breaking into the locked room.

"There were lots of papers I didn't understand," he said. "Operation Nick...Nicholas II; that was it. But just lots of equations that didn't make sense. And I found this map, but I don't know what it's for." He took the map he had stolen from the folder out from his pocket, unfolded it and put it in front of Blunt and Mrs. Jones. They both leaned over to study it for several minutes.

"I can't imagine what it's for," Mrs. Jones said. "Agent Daniels, perhaps you'd like to take a look?"

Ben took it then, frowning as he traced his finger along the line. "Well, as Alex said, it's definitely a map of some kind. An escape route, perhaps? Wherever it is, it looks like it's in a building or tunnels or something – the turns are perfect right angles."

"Give it to Smithers," Blunt said to Mrs. Jones as she took it back from Ben. "See what he makes of it. He turned back to Alex. "Did you take any of these papers – equations?"

Alex shook his head, suddenly feeling stupid for leaving them. "I took the map because there were two copies. I wasn't planning on getting caught, and I didn't want anyone to notice they were missing. Anyway, while I was having a look, the phone rang and the guy got out of the shower...and I didn't really hear much of the conversation, but...but the name Max Lacey was mentioned."

This, of course, wasn't true, but Alex wanted to know who Max Lacey was, and it could be important. He knew he was right when Ben, Blunt and Mrs. Jones all exchanged glances.

"Who is he?" Alex demanded.

It was Mrs. Jones who spoke, after several seconds of silence. "He's another one of our agents – he didn't join us too long ago. I can't imagine why..." She cleared her throat. "Is there anything else?"

"I picked this up when I was trying to escape," Alex said. He took the picture from his jeans pocket. He was lucky it hadn't been in his jacket, which he'd lost trying to escape. "I don't know if it's the guy who owned the house – I never saw his face – or – " He stopped as more glances were exchanged. "You know him."

"This is Max Lacey," Ben said at last, when no one else spoke. He turned his head to Blunt and Mrs. Jones. "He must be the next target. They're picking us off like flies."

"I'll get onto the Protection Team," Mrs. Jones said, after another pause. "Have them ensure Lacey's under observation at all times."

Blunt remained silent, but he pressed his fingers together. They were long; Alex had never noticed it before. He wondered if Blunt played the piano. Then he realised the man was studying him intently. Did he think Alex was lying? Alex met his gaze defiantly, and then continued, telling of how he'd been seized from behind, chased, and then thrown himself in front of a car to save himself.

"That was very dangerous," Blunt said. "Unnecessarily so. I don't like my agents to be reckless."

"He was going to kill me!" Alex protested, bristling at Blunt's claim of him as 'his' agent. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. "Even when I got up and went to get into the car, he started shooting at me." That reminded him. "Er...this guy...Robin Russell I think his name was...he let me get in his car, even when I was being shot at. His window kind of...got smashed. I sort of...well, it would be good if..."

"I'll have it seen to," Mrs. Jones said, making another note. "Was there anything else?"

Alex somehow wasn't surprised that MI6 were more interested in what information he might have rather than how he was after being hit by a car. He shook his head.

"So let's get this straight." Blunt's voice was ice. "You knocked one of our agents unconscious; instead of calling Special Operations you broke into a known felon's house; you found papers but failed to steal them; and then you threw yourself in front of a moving vehicle."

It did sound bad, and Alex might have felt embarrassed, but he felt his temper flare in indignation. He stood up abruptly. "I don't work for you," he said. "I gave you the information I could. I could have seen this guy and ignored him, but I didn't. I stole the photograph. I stole the map. I got you a name – and might have saved one of your agents. I didn't have to do any of that. So I don't see what right that gives you to have a go at me."

Blunt didn't even look at him, instead busying himself with shuffling some papers on his desk. This only irritated Alex more.

"You're under MI6 custody," the head of Special Operations said finally. "You're our business and we're your business. You're – usually – very good at what you do. I fail to see why you constantly deny that this is your destiny."

Alex opened his mouth again, but Ben stood up beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. His grip felt tight. "I think we'd better go," he said in a low voice, and began to steer Alex firmly in the directly of the door. Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones said nothing, and Ben closed the door after them, turning towards the lift and pressing the call button.

Alex risked a sideways look at him. He could see the muscles in Ben's jaw clenching and unclenching, and his mouth was set in a hard line. He wasn't looking at Alex – in fact, didn't look at Alex once all the way down in the lift and through reception. Was he angry with Alex too? And if so, for making mistakes, or following the man in the first place? He found out as soon as they got into Ben's car.

"'_This is your destiny'_?" Ben burst out. "What is this, Star Wars?"

Alex, who had been expecting Ben to rant at him, couldn't help laughing; it was such a comical way of looking at something which Blunt had meant completely seriously. Ben didn't laugh, however; in fact, Alex thought, he looked somewhere between stunned and furious.

"It isn't funny, Alex," he said. "You're fourteen. They're already trying to press you into a lifetime with the Secret Service."

Alex sobered up. "They didn't mean it like that," he said uncomfortably. "Just my dad and my uncle were in MI6, and – "

"They both died because of it? Doesn't that tell you something?" Ben cut in, and immediately looked apologetic. "Sorry. But you must realise that they're using that to manipulate you."

Alex swallowed, sitting back in his seat and staring straight ahead. Perhaps they had used it to some extent, but it had been _him_ who had gone after Scorpia, who had got involved with the ASIS – because he wanted to know about his dad. His uncle _had_ trained him to be a spy, and MI6 were exploiting that, but it was Ian Rider who had already done the damage. And, much as Alex hated to admit it, and never would out loud, he wasn't sure they were so far off the mark when they claimed it _was_ in his blood.

"Alex?" Ben asked gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," Alex said, and, thankfully, Ben, being the polar opposite of Wolf, dropped the subject and started the car.

Inside the room they'd just left, as soon as the door had closed behind Alex and Ben, Alan Blunt reached for a paperclip, as though he'd been itching to do it throughout the meeting. Mrs. Jones watched him in silence for a few minutes before speaking.

"Well, I suppose this confirms it," she ventured after a while.

"I want a team round that house in the next hour," her superior snapped, breaking the paperclip in half and immediately reaching for another. He was clearly angry – about matters that were nothing to do with Alex Rider, Mrs. Jones knew. "Send Crawley. I wanted that place _stripped_."

"What if someone's in?" Mrs. Jones reasoned. "It is a bank holiday."

"He won't still be there," Alan said. "Not now he knows Rider's been there. Rider should have called us as soon as he got to the house, instead of this stupid, reckless...is he trying to get himself killed?"

If he was behaving more recklessly than usual, it was because they had made him that way, Mrs. Jones thought privately. She didn't know why Alan was so surprised. Alex had always done things his own way, and more often than not they'd give him no choice. Out loud, she said: "We've never given him the emergency phone line."

"Well, for goodness' sake, give it to him!" Alan stood up very suddenly, walked across the room, and stopped. "We could have had him!" he said. "Now he's had twelve hours to run – or hide himself again."

"Even if we _did_ have him, we'd still have the problem with Iraq. That could be bigger than all this."

Alan remained silent at this suggestion, instead staring out of the window.

"What are you going to do about Iraq now?" Mrs. Jones pressed. "Surely the plan can't remain as it was."

Her superior's gaze moved from the window to her. She might have shivered if she hadn't known Alan Blunt extremely well. Many people thought his gaze was cold, dead. Mrs. Jones knew hers was the same, and, as a result, she knew better: what she saw was a grim determination – a man who did what he had to do no matter what the cost.

"The plan remains the same," he snapped. "Get Crawley in that house. I want to see Alex the day after tomorrow. I don't want Ben Daniels there. He's too attached."

"And you're still going to use – "

"_Yes_," Alan said firmly. Mrs. Jones fell silent, knowing not to argue, even if she thought the whole affair was dangerous.

But, then, what could she do, even if she _did_ have the power to change Alan Blunt's mind? These plans had been in the making for months – and it was on shaky ground as it was, without changing the main ingredients.

"I'll get onto Crawley," she said, standing up. "What time would you like to see Alex?"

Alan's gaze returned to the window. "Make it twelve," he said. "I'd like to have lunch before Daniels makes his rage known."

* * *

It was raining. It always was in Wales, Wolf thought bitterly as he pulled his rucksack higher on his shoulders. It weighed over two hundred pounds – supposedly the average weight of his team mates, should he ever need to carry one of them out of danger. At this stage, soaked through, frozen to the bone, and still 10km away from their destination, Wolf thought privately he'd be tempted to leave them behind.

To his right, Snake stopped suddenly, bending down to massage his leg. Wolf turned around.

"You all right?" he said gruffly. Snake gave a short nod, but continued to massage around his knee. Even over the past couple of days, it had become clear Snake wasn't entirely back on form, though he was certainly giving it his all. He was still having physiotherapy at the medical centre every day. In fact, he'd come back to the barracks looking angry that morning. Apparently the physiotherapist had suggested he might take further leave.

"I don't need further leave!" Snake had exclaimed, throwing his bag down. "What I need is to get back into a routine!"

Looking at Snake as the man shook his bad leg out, however, Wolf wasn't entirely sure it was the way forward. It was true his teammate had made massive improvements already – they all had – and he was just about keeping up with the rest of them, but there were just certain moments...moments that would prevent them from going back to the field for a good while, Wolf suspected, or perhaps hoped.

"I'm fine," Snake said, but it came out through gritted teeth. Eagle had stopped now, too, hoisting up his rucksack.

"I guess we could try to split Snake's load," he said, but sounded doubtful.

Even Jackal didn't seem to think this was a good idea, and Wolf had never heard him complain about training. The man just seemed to complete every exercise and eat every meal with the same grim expression on his face.

"We're already carrying our own weight. It doesn't matter if Snake doesn't get back on time; they're not going to bin him –"

"We work as a team," Wolf said sharply. "We don't leave people behind." He chose at that moment to forget the thoughts he'd been having about leaving people behind if it was raining. "It's not in our interests to leave Snake behind, anyway," he continued. "We'd get binned for lack of teamwork."

"We're never going back into the field at this rate," Jackal, not entirely stupidly, pointed out.

Wolf was about to say, 'Perhaps that's for the best for now', but Eagle spoke before he could.

"Will you _shut up_ about going back to the field? You haven't stopped since we got here."

Anyone could tell when Eagle was annoyed, and it was better not to continue an argument with Eagle when he was like that, but Jackal pressed on.

"I just think it's important to realise what we're working towards here – "

"We're working," Eagle spat, "towards being a team again. If you want to be part of that, shut the hell up."

Jackal's expression was unreadable – the same grim expression he always had – and he said nothing in reply to this. An awkward silence hung in the air.

"Let's go," Snake said hastily. "We need to get moving if we're going to make it in time."

They started to march again, but the air was still thick with tension. Eagle eventually broke it, a kilometre on.

"Wonder what Cub and Fox are up to?"

It was _not_ what Wolf wanted to hear. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "They're not _up_ to anything. They're both...just on school holidays, on leave, whatever. Nothing to do with MI6."

"I just meant I wonder how they're getting on," Eagle said, giving him a funny look. "Ben's never had a kid before."

"Cub's not your average kid," Snake muttered.

"Do you really think that?" Jackal directed his question towards Wolf. "That MI6 is leaving them alone?"

"Of course they are," Wolf snapped. "Cub said he'd told them to leave him alone." He threw a suspicious look towards Jackal, remembering the man had friends in MI6. "Why?"

Jackal gave a nonchalant look that might have accompanied a shrug had any of them been able to do so. "I just find it interesting that..._Cub_ was placed with Ben Daniels, an MI6 agent."

"I _asked_ for them to do that," Wolf started, but Eagle interrupted.

"How do you know Cub is living with Fox?" he said. "I don't remember any of us ever telling you that."

Now that Wolf thought about it, Eagle had a point. Jackal just cocked one eyebrow.

"Interesting that you all knew and never mentioned it, though, no? I'm not surprised you're worried we'll be binned for lack of teamwork."

Wolf gritted his teeth at this, but Eagle never walked away from an argument.

"I'm only worried about my inability to work with an insensitive bastard like you," he said. "What happens to Cub is none of your business, and there's no reason to wind Wolf – or any of us – up. You still haven't answered the question. How do you know about Cub living with Fox?"

Jackal's lip curled, and for a second Wolf thought he was going to refuse to answer, but he did. "I have my contacts," he said shortly.

"What, in MI6?" Eagle gave a harsh laugh. "Why don't you go and join them, since you're so close to S.O.? You don't belong here."

"Eagle," Snake warned, but it was Wolf who interrupted this time, hating himself for asking, but unable to stop himself.

"Your contacts in MI6," he said slowly, "they didn't mention anything more about Cub, did they?"

"Like what?" Jackal asked, voice flat.

"They're not...Cub's not being sent on a mission, is he?"

"Not that I've heard of." Jackal hoisted his bag up higher. "I don't know why you're so concerned. He's a nobody. Besides, he seems all too eager to tell everyone he can take care of himself."

"You have no idea," Eagle muttered, and the memory of Cub's bullet scar flashed in Wolf's mind. He swallowed and remained silent, thinking of Fox's promise to look after Cub and praying he was keeping it.

* * *

The house was deserted. Of course it was. But the team of Special Ops agents went through the motions of an ambush anyway, just in case. Crawley gave the order by radio to enter the house from a safe distance, and watched silently as the first agent crashed through the front door. Even though he _knew_ no one would be home, the first one in was always a nerve-wracking moment. Crawley had had enough injuries – even deaths – on his hands before not to feel a little nervous. There were no shots from inside, however, and he waited for nearly a minute while they searched the house. He sighed in relief when his radio crackled again.

"_This is Agent Watson. The coast is clear. Over."_

Crawley motioned to the other agents outside. "We're going in."

It was worse than they'd hoped, but not unexpected. All the furniture was still there, of course – furniture could be replaced – but even a brief initial search demonstrated that all papers – _everything_ – had gone. They would do a more thorough search later, of course, but the job already reeked of professionalism. Examining the hall table, Crawley could see no marks on it, no telling fingerprints. That too would be something they could look for when the more exhaustive search was carried out. Crawley wasn't hopeful. He pulled out his phone – MI6 issued, of course, and dialled.

"Agent Crawley."

"The house is empty," he told the woman on the other end dully. "All the papers are gone. Looks like everything's been wiped down and cleaned."

A brief pause. This wasn't the news his superiors had been hoping for. "Do a thorough search," the woman ordered. "_Everything_ has to be examined. Keep a careful note of the agents that find anything. They may need an extra briefing on the importance of discretion."

Crawley might have been insulted at the insinuation that his team were not discrete, but he knew this was a different matter entirely. Very few people now, even within the Service, could be trusted. Even the team he had there that day was perhaps a quarter of the size of normal. There had been some muttering about this from the team, but no one had seriously questioned it. They might if they started to uncover anything about their usual teammates.

Crawley agreed and hung up, staring around him as the other agents started to strip the place down. He knew the Service must be getting close to a point where it had to do something drastic. These were desperate times. They couldn't afford to lose any more people. And this was possibly the first major breakthrough they'd had, yet it appeared to be yielding nothing. Another disaster.

Outside the house, at a reasonable distance – watching from a window of the house across the road, in fact – stood the owner of the house Crawley's team were currently searching. He smirked as he saw Crawley come out of the house, rubbing his forehead. The senior agent looked tired and stressed. The house owner didn't blame him. He'd be tired and stressed in that situation. And it would only get worse. They wouldn't find _anything_ in that house of value. The very best had stripped it down, cleaned it, got rid of the evidence. Just two of them, but they were professional. They knew how to cover their tracks. He felt excited, though. Everything was coming closer to realisation. He was glad for this compromise. MI6 would be forced to act now. And unwittingly they would bring about the country's demise.

The man almost cackled. The plan was too perfect.

* * *

On the third of January, Alex went back to school. He lived further away from Brooklands now, but he still stopped to pick Tom up on the way, at eight-thirty. Tom came out looking dishevelled, his top button undone, his shirt untucked and without a tie.

"My mum thought it was my dad's," he said. "She put it in the oven. It's not exactly wearable now."

Alex raised his eyebrows as Tom unlocked his bike. "I've got a spare. I'll bring it in tomorrow."

"Thanks. Hey, must feel strange to have been at school for the end of term _and_ be starting the next one on time, right?"

"A little," Alex admitted.

"Unlucky," Tom told him as he got on his bike. "I'd do anything not to have to go back to school today."

And therein lay the contradiction for Alex. Unlike Tom, he was glad to be back at school – it was the only semblance of normality he had left in his life. Yet by his very desire to be at school, he _wasn't_ normal.

Even his form tutor seemed surprised to see him there, calling his name in the register and moving on before Alex had a chance to reply. In his first class, History, Mr. Gray had flashed him a welcoming smile, and beckoned him over at the end of the lesson.

"Keeping well, then, Alex?"

"Yes, sir," Alex said.

"I had a look at the draft of your coursework you handed in. Very impressive. Top marks, I'd say. How are you doing in your other subjects?"

"All right," Alex answered. "It's just English – I'm really far behind."

"Well, we'll have a few more sessions after school, if you like – see if we can't fix those problems. I'll have a look at my timetable and see what I can do."

"Thanks, sir; it's really nice of you to help me."

"You're a bright student, Alex. I can't even say you don't apply yourself; it's just you only apply yourself when you're here to do so." Mr. Gray looked at his watch. "You'd better get off to your next class – P.E., isn't it? Just...keep well, Alex. You've nearly caught up."

Alex arrived at P.E. late, and consequently was behind everybody else on the cross-country run that their teacher had told them to do while he sat in his office with his coffee. When he arrived outside in his shorts and T shirt (he was sure this counted as physical punishment in January), he found everyone had already left. He wasn't too worried. He knew he'd catch up, probably in the park.

Sure enough, when he reached the park near Brooklands, he could see the last straggles of students already – mostly very unfit girls. Tom, of course, would be miles in front, but Alex could probably still catch him. He put on a burst of speed.

He was so focused on running that he nearly tripped over John Crawley's foot. Luckily he noticed the man standing there just before he reached him. There was no way he could ignore him. With a feeling of dread, Alex slowed to a jog, and then to a stop. He couldn't help recalling the last time he'd met Crawley in this park. Last time Crawley had been dressed more casually, and was with his dog. Now he looked professional – every inch the bank manager.

"Alex."

"What do you want?" Alex glared. "Whatever it is, the answer's no."

"It's regarding what you found on New Years' Eve," Crawley said, his voice pleasant and conversational, as if he were inquiring after Alex's health.

That got Alex's attention. "What about it?" he asked, looking vaguely at the girls, who were getting further ahead.

"Mr. Blunt wishes to speak to you about it." Crawley adjusted his tie. "If you'd like to follow me, there's a car waiting."

Somehow, Alex wasn't surprised, but it didn't mean he was backing down. "I'm at school," he told the MI6 agent. "I'll go to the Bank afterwards."

"It requires your _immediate _attention," Crawley said. "A note will be sent to the school explaining you had a hospital appointment should you not be back in time for your next class."

"What, a check up after that appendicitis?" Alex said sarcastically. Of course, it had all been pre-arranged – they knew he would be doing P.E.; that he'd be in the park; that there was very little he could do about it. What was he supposed to do? Start running again? Inwardly sighing, he followed Crawley in silence.

Crawley didn't speak to him in the car, and Alex didn't try to start a conversation. Crawley had taken him to the Bank before, or given him 'tasks', such as working at Wimbledon, that rarely turned out in Alex's favour. He didn't dislike the man – in fact, there wasn't much _to _dislike. He was as grey and boring as Blunt, without the air of ruthlessness about him.

When they arrived at the Royal and General, Crawley came in with him, but didn't follow him into the lift. Clearly this was a private meeting – Crawley was only there as a messenger. Trying to ignore the feeling of dread clawing at his stomach, Alex made his way to Blunt's office, walking as slowly as possible. Crawley had said this was about what he'd found on New Years' Eve. Blunt hadn't been happy about it when Alex had last seen him, and Alex had no desire to repeat the conversation.

At last he could avoid it no longer, and he knocked on the door of Blunt's office.

"Enter," a monotonous voice said, and Alex went in.

The set-up wasn't a foreign one to him. Blunt sat behind his desk – grey hair, grey suit, grey expression. Mrs. Jones sat to his right, and the scent of peppermint wafted over to Alex. She, at least, smiled as he entered, but it was a forced smile. Mrs. Jones's smiles were probably always forced, actually, now Alex thought about it, but this one _looked_ forced. Which meant either that she couldn't adequately hide how she was feeling, or she didn't want to. Or possibly both.

You never could tell with spies.

"How are you, Alex?" Blunt asked him. This was surprising in itself – the last time he'd seen Blunt, the man had been less than happy with him.

"Not much changed since I saw you two days ago," Alex said slowly. "What's this about? You dragged me out of school. Crawley said it was about New Years' Eve."

Blunt acted as though he hadn't heard him. "Take a seat, Alex."

Alex hesitated for a split second, and then sat down in the chair opposite Blunt. His gaze flickered to Mrs. Jones again, but she wasn't looking at him. Something clenched in his stomach. He was getting a terrible sense of foreboding.

"What you found on New Years' Eve fits in very much with an overall picture we've been building up for months – at least since June," the Head of Special Operations said. He was looking at Alex, but Alex got the impression the man wasn't really seeing him. He could have been talking to a brick wall and behaving in the same way.

"And what's that?" Alex asked as Blunt paused.

"That we have major problems in the Middle East."

Alex raised his eyebrows. "You've only just noticed?"

"It's more than that," Mrs. Jones said – the first time she had spoken. "We do have problems in the Middle East – that much is obvious. But they tend to be confined to the Middle East. The occasional terrorist attack reaches Britain, but these are minor."

"Minor?" Alex stared. "Hundreds of people were injured in the July 7th bombings!"

"It is minor in the grand scheme of things. Estimates for the number of Iraqi civilians that have been killed since the Iraq War began in 2003 vary between 100,000 and one million." Blunt's gaze bore into Alex. "Britain is obviously our priority. But we think someone is seeking to make Britain pay for those Iraqi deaths."

"Why?"

"There are...gaps in our intelligence," Mrs. Jones said, taking over again. "There are gaps where there shouldn't be, and there have been leaks of information. We've suspected this for a long time. That first murder you witnessed – where you saw our agent hand over some papers – confirmed it. When you questioned the second agent who was shot, he specifically mentioned Iraq. No part of our organisation seems to be left untouched. Our agents are being targeted – Max Lacey seems to be the next target, and we don't even know why." Her gaze move to Blunt, who started speaking again.

"This is a very delicate situation, Alex. We could lose everything – especially what George Bush is so fond of calling the 'war on terror'. We don't even know _why_ we're being infiltrated like this, let alone how. We don't know who's behind it. We don't know what they're planning – why they need our intelligence. We need to find out."

There was a pause.

Alex's eyes slid to Mrs. Jones. It was her turn to speak, and he didn't like what he thought he was going to hear next.

"We want you to help us find out, Alex."

Alex swallowed. It was strange, he thought, how just a few days ago, he'd been thinking about how everything seemed to be connected to the Middle East. Now, here he was in MI6 headquarters, being told that was true, but, like Alex, no one knew how. He didn't know how he was supposed to find out any better than they could.

"I told you I didn't want to work for you anymore," he said flatly. "I just want to be at school. I've barely caught up. You've chased Jack away. I've nearly been killed more times than I can count. Isn't that enough for you? Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Alex," Mrs. Jones started, but Blunt suddenly stood up, leaning across his desk.

"Don't you understand what's at stake?" he demanded. His whole body was rigid; perhaps the first time Alex had ever seen him openly display any kind of emotion. He thought he preferred the man when he was expressionless. His neck was flushed red, and his eyes were wide open and staring. "Intelligence is what protects this country. If intelligence is gone, the whole of Britain could go too."

"It gets worse," Mrs. Jones said. "There have been cases of uranium and plutonium going missing when crossing that region, however it's being transported – planes, ships...it's like the Bermuda triangle."

"It all points towards a nuclear attack on Britain." Alan Blunt now had his back to Alex, staring out of the window.

Alex could understand the seriousness of the situation, but he didn't really know anything about bombs. He didn't know too much about the Middle East. He didn't really know much about intelligence either. "Why me?"

"There are a very limited number of agents we're able to trust currently," Mrs. Jones told him. "Time is running out. We need to act quickly, with people we know aren't betraying us."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"You wouldn't be going alone. Three more agents would be with you. All you'd have to do is pose as the son of the British diplomat working in Baghdad. We would publicise that you were there. The aim is that you will be kidnapped."

Mid swallow, Alex nearly choked. "Kidnapped?"

"We would have it under control," Mrs. Jones assured him. "You would be fitted with listening and radio equipment. Another agent will follow you when you're kidnapped, and then, essentially, your part would be over. They would search the enemy's headquarters; you would be rescued."

Alex could see so many potential problems that he didn't know where to start. "How can you guarantee that the group you want will kidnap me?"

"We're going to publicise it within MI6 only," Blunt said, turning back to Alex. "Since we seem to be managing to leak all other information, one would assume that would also leak to the same place as genuinely secret intelligence."

"We wouldn't ask you unless we had to." Mrs. Jones looked almost apologetic. "I know you wanted nothing to do with us. But this really is an emergency. You could help save thousands – millions – of people."

"And your friends, of course," Blunt said. Alex's head jerked up.

"I'll tell my friends to go on holiday, _thanks_," he spat. Being manipulated by Blunt to save Tom and Sabina and everyone else was the last thing he wanted.

"I meant your friends in the SAS," Blunt continued smoothly. "I believe you know the operative of code name 'Snake'? We believe this was also linked to his kidnapping several months ago."

Alex's hand curled into a fist, and he clenched his jaw. He _hated_ the way MI6 could do this; could trot out a piece of information that meant he couldn't refuse. They had him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He opened his mouth, uttering the words that would sign his life away. Blunt looked somewhat relieved. Mrs. Jones still looked tense. They thanked him and told him they would call him for a full briefing in a day or two. They needed to discuss things with the other agents first.

Alex left the building almost in a daze, not really understanding how he'd got messed up in all this again. But he kept thinking of Snake, of K unit, and the horrible effects Snake's kidnap had had on them. They didn't know who'd done it. If he could help make the person pay...surely that was worth it, right?

And yet the image of Snake's slightly pale, thinner demeanour, complete with limp, flashed in his mind. He was going to be kidnapped, just like Snake.

What would happen to him if MI6 didn't rescue him like they'd promised?

* * *

Ben had had a good day, up until the point when he got home – which, for most people, was usually when their day started looking up. He'd been called for another physio appointment at eleven o'clock, which had let him off a lot of paperwork he had to do, and, to top it off, MI6 had given him the rest of the day off. The physio had been very positive – genuinely positive this time – about his progress. Whilst this probably wasn't such good news now Alex was living with him, it had still put Ben in a good mood. In fact, he was in such a good mood that he phoned a friend from university – a friend he'd been neglecting somewhat since he'd joined the SAS and then MI6 – and had a long lunch with her. She'd told him she was getting married and invited him to the wedding. Ben was delighted. He promised to go.

He then went shopping, remembering they were running low on food. Alex didn't eat nearly as much as Ben had as a teenager, but the two of them definitely went through food a lot faster than when it was just Ben by himself. Ben wondered if Alex might like to go to the cinema or something that evening. It was his first day back, after all, and he probably wasn't going to be in the highest of spirits.

What Ben wasn't expecting was to arrive home at three o'clock and find Alex already sitting at the kitchen table. He wasn't even in his school uniform, instead dressed in a pair of running shorts and a T shirt. Ben checked his watch again as he set the shopping bags down on the floor.

"Hey," he said. "I thought school finished at quarter to four?"

"Yeah." Alex's voice sounded far away, as though he wasn't really thinking about his answers. Ben looked at him properly. The boy was staring into his lap, hunched over, his whole body language closed off. Ben stopped filling the fridge.

"What's wrong?" When there was no response, he tried again. "Did something happen at school? Is that why you're back so early?"

"No." Alex's tone was now flat, but he still didn't move.

"Well, do you want to talk about it? There's clearly something." Ben folded his arms. He was a patient man, but he knew Alex wasn't necessarily going to be forthcoming.

To his surprise, however, Alex's response was: "Maybe. Yes. No. I don't know."

Ben turned back to the shopping. "Well, I'm here if you decide you want to." He put the milk in the fridge door and closed it.

"I'm being sent to Iraq."

Ben stopped dead, frozen to the spot. He couldn't have heard correctly. He turned his head slowly to see Alex finally looking at him. "Pardon?"

"MI6 are sending me to Iraq," Alex said, and Ben saw him swallow. "They pulled me out of school, took me to the Royal and General and said the country was going to be blown up if I didn't go." Ben tried to gage Alex's thoughts on this, but his face was impassive; even his body language gave nothing away now. He kept his own face deliberately blank, but clenched his fist by his side.

"You agreed to go?" he asked, outwardly keeping calm whilst fighting the urge to hit something.

"Yes." No explanation; no reason; no emotion. Ben thought he knew why.

"I have to go out for a bit," he said, keeping his voice even. "Do you mind putting the rest of the shopping away?" He knew he was being transparent; knew Alex would guess immediately where he was going. He didn't care. Someone had to look out for that kid.

"Don't." A single word – and Ben knew Alex wasn't begging him not to leave, but asking him not to go to Blunt. "You won't stop it."

Ben picked his coat up from the chair again. "You assume that's my objective."

Unfortunately, it mostly was. But he'd made Wolf a promise and he was damn well going to keep it. He hesitated on the doorstep, and then entered the house again, looking into the kitchen. Alex's head jerked up again.

"Do you want to come?" Ben had to ask. He thought perhaps it might keep him polite, having Alex there, but mainly he knew Alex never reacted well to people discussing him behind his back. If Ben was going to keep Alex on his side, he needed to keep Alex involved.

Alex held his gaze for a moment, and Ben had the unsettling feeling that he _knew_ Ben's reasons for asking, but then the boy seemed to accept them, and he nodded and stood up. Without a word, he picked a jacket up from the back of the kitchen chair and followed Ben out of the flat.

And that was how Alex found himself outside the Royal and General for the third time in as many days. Ben was clearly furious; he didn't speak at all during the journey, and he parked illegally. As though as an afterthought, the man put a police sticker on the dashboard so he wouldn't get a ticket. Clearly no matter how angry Ben was, common sense came first. Sense didn't stop him from slamming the car door shut, however, and, with barely a glance to make sure Alex was following him, he strode ahead of Alex towards the Bank. Alex almost had to jog to keep up.

Ben didn't even stop to inform the receptionist where he was going.

"Mr. Daniels, Mr. Blunt said – "

Ben ignored her, jabbing the call button for the lift. Alex stared at him. Ben had been mildly angry when they'd come two days ago, but he'd never seen Ben really furious – the steam was almost coming off him. His gaze flickered to Alex just once, and his eyes, usually warm and twinkling with amusement, were hard and cold. Alex was glad when the lift arrived and Ben broke eye contact.

Mrs. Jones was waiting for them at the top.

"I assume you're here to see Mr. Blunt?" she asked, the words slightly thick with the peppermint in her mouth.

"Who else?" Ben snapped. The two of them followed the deputy to the same office Alex had been in earlier.

Alan Blunt was sitting at his desk once again, as though he hadn't moved all day. He looked up as Ben stormed through the door as if he was a mild inconvenience in his life but of no great consequence. Alex hovered in the doorway, but Ben strode right up to the desk and laid his hands flat on it, leaning over.

"What are you doing?"

"Right now, Daniels, I'm asking you to take a seat." Blunt said he was asking, but it was an order. Ben seemed to clench his teeth and back off, sitting down in the seat provided. Alex felt awkward and unnecessary. He didn't want to be here. He'd agreed to do the job. He didn't want a heated argument about it.

"Would you like to take a moment to calm down?" Mrs. Jones asked Ben. Ben's head snapped up.

"No," he spat. "It's going to take a lot more than a quiet moment to calm me down, I promise you."

"What seems to be the problem?" Blunt's voice was crisp, and he met Ben's stare head on. Alex allowed himself a grudging admiration for both of them. Ben was furious and probably not a man to be messed with at that moment. Yet even expressionless Blunt had the potential to be frightening.

"You're sending a _fourteen year-old_ out to do your dirty work again." Ben's voice was hard, and Alex caught a glimpse of the former SAS soldier. "I fail to see how there's _not_ a problem here."

"We have a serious situation that only Alex can fix." The lines on Blunt's face seemed to be etched into ice, such was the coldness that surrounded him. "What I fail to see is how it's any of your business."

"Well, it's got to be someone's business. You've sent him to live with me. No one else seems to be on his side."

"You are just someone providing a place to stay, Daniels; you are not Alex's legal guardian. His uncle left him to us in his will. We oversee Alex's welfare."

"What is he, an estate?" Ben asked, resisting the urge to lean over and shake Blunt. "He said you're sending him to Iraq. That's a war zone. Not a fit place for a teenager."

"Many would debate whether it is still officially a war zone," Blunt said, as though this made all the difference. Ben started to splutter. Mrs. Jones cut in with a voice she thought was soothing. Alex thought it sounded as though it belonged to a snake.

"It's in a very controlled environment. Alex will be acting as the ambassador's son in an effort to be kidnapped. We will have agents watching. They will follow the kidnappers and retrieve Alex immediately."

Alex felt a rush of coldness at her words, and had to stop himself from shivering. His gaze slid towards Ben again. The man had gone very white.

"Kidnapped?" he croaked.

"We want you to be included in this mission," Mrs. Jones continued, as though Ben hadn't spoken. "You will be observing Alex at all times. No one will be in any danger."

"No one will be in any danger?" Ben burst out, jumping out of his chair. "I _know_ how serious this is; what we're dealing with. Alex might not, and I don't know what you've been brainwashing him with, but – "

Alex gritted his teeth. He wasn't _stupid_. He wasn't just some kid.

"I haven't been _brainwashed_," he cut in. "I can make my own decisions."

"Yes, of course, I didn't mean that," Ben said hastily, turning to look at Alex. "But you must see this is ridiculous."

"No." Alex was firm. "I want to help K unit. I don't think that's ridiculous."

"But you – " Ben stopped up short and blinked. "What?" He turned back to Blunt and Mrs. Jones. "What?"

"There is reason to believe all this is linked to Snake's kidnapping several months ago," Mrs. Jones said smoothly – too later, Alex realised, in the same smooth voice as she had told Alex. It was all manipulation. Of course it was. But there was nothing he could do about it. If he could help K unit in any way, he wanted to.

"I – " Ben faltered again, and Mrs. Jones spoke instead.

"We would assume, like Alex, you wanted to help K unit," she said.

Ben glanced at Alex again. He looked torn, almost desperately so. Alex knew what he was thinking. He didn't want to be manipulated like this, and he still didn't want Alex to go, but he wanted, as Alex did, to find out what had happened to K unit – _why_ it had happened. It was probably an even greater temptation for him. K unit were his former teammates. And his brother had died in the Middle East as it was.

"I'll go," Ben said finally, turning back to Blunt and Jones.

Mrs. Jones looked thoroughly relieved. "Excellent. We'll arrange a full brief – "

"But Alex shouldn't."

The deputy looked slightly annoyed at having been interrupted. "Alex's record is outstanding."

"He's _fourteen._"

"I do apologise, Daniels," Blunt said, not sounding in the least apologetic. "I must have given you the impression that this was a matter for debate. It isn't. We will arrange a full briefing with the other members of the team tomorrow at three. Be prompt." He looked down at the papers in front of him. "You may go," he said, as if he'd invited them.

Ben stared at him for several seconds before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. Alex followed in silence. Ben still hadn't spoken a word by the time they got into his car.

"Ben?" Alex ventured. "Are you okay?"

Ben still didn't look at him, but his tone was razor sharp.

"Okay?" he hissed. "How is it the SAS and MI6 teach their recruits to withstand all sorts of interrogation, all sorts of torture, but not plain and simple manipulation?"

Alex shrugged. He'd never been given training in any of those things. Ben gave a harsh laugh.

"Of course; because then they wouldn't be able to force anyone to do anything." He was silent for perhaps half a minute, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he finally met Alex's gaze. "Well, looks like we're working together again."

"Yes," Alex agreed. "It certainly does."

Ben turned the key in the ignition and started the car, but he didn't yet move away from the kerb. "You know, Alex, fourteen's too young to get yourself killed."

Alex stared out of the window. "Someone once told me you're never too young to die."

"Fourteen is."

"MI6 have never thought so."

"They're wrong. I'll stop all this. This will be your last mission."

Alex looked Ben straight in the eye. "No it won't," he said. "It's in my blood."

And Ben, with a chill at Alex's tone, knew the boy believed what he said.

* * *

A/N: Yeurgh, ending is definitely not up to scratch, but I need the next few scenes to go together, and even I think twelve thousand words might be too many for a chapter! The next chapter will be much better than this one, but some chapters are fillers and that's just the way it is. Hope it wasn't too awful, and I'll try and get the next one out soon.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I'm SORRY it's been so long – really I am. I've had some lovely reviews since I updated, and some more demanding ones (!), so I know it's been rather unfair of me not to update for so long. Life rather got in the way. But here is Chapter 16! I'm into my holiday now, so I'll do my best to knock out several chapters in the coming months.

Chapter 16

The two criminals were not the type to describe themselves as criminals but as professionals with a mission. And that mission was a very special one indeed.

The preparations had been in the pipeline for months and months – well over a year – and the planning even longer. There had been some hiccups – actually, many more hiccups than they might have liked. They hadn't expected the SAS to cotton on to them so quickly, for a start, though they had soon dealt with that problem. The Rider boy had been a bigger obstacle. He had been staying with one of the SAS operatives, and they had feared this would delay the SAS unit's return to the field. After a little digging, they'd also discovered he had a formidable reputation.

That was when they'd decided he had to go.

The brat made things worse, of course – playing detective, and without realising its importance, he'd stumbled on what the two 'professionals' had been getting away with for months. Stealing information and killing those who got in their way.

They tried to scare him at first. Batter him around a little, hope he'd leave them alone. It didn't work. They'd had to poison him. But he was like a damned cockroach – kept slipping away, somehow surviving. Eventually they'd decided to leave him alone. They hadn't anticipated just how protective MI6 was of their little protégé and they were beginning to draw attention to themselves. Quit while you're ahead, they'd thought. It had worked until Rider had followed one of the men back to his house. If he'd seen his face and survived, that would have been it. For days, both men cursed themselves for not being quicker and killing him anyway. It would have drawn attention to them, but the time was close enough that they could have fled the country.

Now they were glad they hadn't.

This was _so _much better.

They hadn't even anticipated the Rider boy might be sent to Iraq. He had a reputation, but no one really _believed _it. But perhaps they could see where MI6 was coming from. The directors were feeling scared and vulnerable, and they needed people they knew weren't going to betray them. Who better to rely on than a child who still saw the world in black and white?

"What are we going to do about this kidnapping?" The two of them were sitting in a dark corner of a cafe in Chinatown. They knew they weren't going to be overheard there. The one who had spoken was smoking, aware that the smoking law was never enforced there. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and into the ashtray as he waited for his partner's response.

"I don't know." The second man's tone was one of musing rather than irritability. He knew, like his companion, that the knowledge provided a great opportunity; just neither was sure how to use it.

"Bit of luck we found out about it, really; if we'd just heard it the way they wanted us to – thinking Rider was just the ambassador's son – we might have made some huge mistakes."

The other man bobbed his head up and down. "We need to be careful, though," he warned. "We can't be too clever. Rider _has_ got a reputation. He'll find us out. He's come close enough."

The man with the cigarette took a last drag and then stubbed it out in the ashtray. His tone was scoffing. "He's got a reputation, but he's _fourteen_. Don't worry so much. We'll sort him out. About time someone did." He smirked. "I've got lots of ideas."

Despite the tension that was still evident in his posture, his companion allowed himself a small smile. "Rider really doesn't stand a chance, does he?"

The first man contemplated this for a moment while he lit another cigarette. He took a long drag and then blew out smoke. "No," he said finally, "I don't believe he does."

And in a few more smoke rings, Alex Rider's fate was decided.

* * *

Ben always slept lightly these days.

When he'd been in the SAS he'd been a heavy sleeper – had _had_ to be with Eagle's snorts and Wolf's grunts – but working for MI6 had put him more on edge. Sleeping could get you killed when there was only one of you.

A door creak and soft footsteps on the landing past Ben's door was therefore enough to nudge Ben into consciousness. He blinked up in the dark for several seconds, confused about what had woken him, when he heard the bathroom door click shut and the sound of the lock sliding across.

Alex was going to the toilet. That was all. Ben rolled over and closed his eyes.

Then he heard the retching.

Ben's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in bed. He was sure he wasn't mistaken, even as he heard the toilet flush. Alex was throwing up. This was not good when they had a meeting with Blunt the next day and a mission for which they might be deployed at any time. He pushed back the duvet as he heard the tap running, the water rushing through the pipes. He'd better go and check that he was all right and wasn't coming down with something terrible.

He met Alex out on the landing, the boy just coming out of the bathroom, rubbing his face and looking exhausted, even in the half light, and Ben just emerging from his room. Ben studied the younger spy closely.

"Everything all right?"

He received a weak – and totally false – smile in return. "Yeah." Alex gestured to the bathroom. "Just going to the toilet. See you in the morning."

The lie made Ben pause for a second while he assessed Alex's _reasons_ for lying. Possibly he didn't want Ben to worry about him, or he didn't want to make a fuss because it was nothing serious. Or Alex had something to hide.

Unfortunately Alex was nearly at his room when Ben made this connection.

"I heard you being sick," he said evenly, making Alex stop dead. The boy turned around to look at him again.

"It's not a big deal," he said. Ironically, it was the blank expression he so carefully cultivated that gave him away. The same blank expression _all_ spies had when they were avoiding the truth.

"Are you ill?" Ben persisted. "I can call off the meeting tomorrow."

"No, I'm fine." Alex's tone was flat, expressionless, but Ben could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight tightness of the muscles around his brows. He also noted the slight sheen of sweat on Alex's face. Was he running a fever? But what could Ben do? He couldn't force answers out of his charge.

"Are you sure you don't feel shivery?" he asked finally, wincing both at the inadequacy of the words and how over-protective they sounded.

"I'm fine." Alex's smile was pained and said the opposite. "Just trouble sleeping. Good night."

He was so fast he was in his room and behind a closed door before Ben could piece together what he'd said. _Just trouble sleeping._

Ben had heard that one before. Mostly from Wolf and Snake in the last few months. He hadn't expected it to come out of Alex's mouth. Ben's hand curled into a fist. Alex hadn't had 'trouble sleeping' before now – at least, not when he'd been staying with Ben. Yet now he was being sent somewhere on a mission, there were problems. Ben clicked his teeth together, mulling this over. He had no way of telling if this was normal behaviour – for Alex, anyway. Was he always uptight before a mission? Or was this one – dangerous and risky even by MI6's standards – getting to him?

Ben was up for two hours more before the answer came to him.

It was time to talk to Jack Starbright.

* * *

Wolf too was having trouble sleeping that night. The team had gone to bed at one o'clock, having been out on a night exercise, but by half past three Wolf was still staring into the darkness, listening to Eagle snorting to himself. Snake always slept silently, but Wolf could tell he was asleep from his heavy breathing. As usual, Jackal didn't make a sound. When they were all asleep and in the dark, Wolf could _almost_ make himself believe it was really Fox who was still with them; he'd always slept quietly too. Wolf gritted his teeth when he thought of Fox. Everything had been fine before he'd left. It was when they'd had to get a replacement in their team that everything had gone wrong.

Not that Wolf blamed Fox; the pay packet at MI6 was definitely more attractive and the accommodation on Special Ops missions certainly beat camping in the Amazon jungle. Nor did Wolf blame Jackal. Although he doubted he was ever going to be best friends with the man, they were all adults and professionals. They could get along. They just hadn't had time to get used to one another before Iraq. And now they had that to cope with too. Wolf closed his eyes as he thought about Iraq for what seemed the millionth time just that day. The Sergeant had called Wolf to his office earlier to discuss it, in fact. He was 'concerned'.

"_I'll admit it, soldier, your team is giving me some anxiety."_

_Wolf had remained silent, swallowing, wondering what was coming next._

"_Snake's physical condition is giving the physiotherapist some concern."_

_Wolf found his voice. "He's keeping up, Sir."_

"_It's less than ideal. The only reason I haven't sent him home yet is because you're working together as a team to compensate for him." The Sergeant leaned back against his desk, his hand finding a piece of paper there. He picked it up and studied it for a second. "Well, that, and the fact I have orders that K unit should remain in training. The whole unit."_

_Wolf's mouth almost dropped open, but he didn't dare ask for an explanation; the Sergeant didn't always take kindly to curiosity. Luckily, the Sergeant seemed angry enough at being told what to do that some information slipped out._

"_Bloody Special Ops; think we're their lackeys. Don't know what their obsession is with K unit in particular..."_

That had been enough to make Wolf turn white. Thinking about it now, Wolf still felt uneasy. Why _did_ SO have such an obsession with K unit? Snake was incredibly fit, particularly considering how severe his injuries had been, but he still wasn't up to the standard the rest of them were. Why would MI6 insist on keeping them in training?

The answer was in the back of his mind, eating away at him, whispering in his ear, taunting him. _Cub_. It had to be. If K unit was away, no one had the kid's back. Well, Fox did, but even this didn't feel quite right. Fox did care about Cub, but he worked for MI6 and Wolf knew Blunt would exert as much pressure as possible on Fox to make him agree to whatever he wanted. Wolf gripped the blanket over him tightly, and then released it, suddenly feeling far too much like a child holding his cuddle blanket. If the other members of K unit saw _that_, he'd never hear the end of it.

He felt restless – unable to go to sleep, but unable to get up and go for a walk because he knew he _should_ get some sleep. They had a practice stakeout starting at six a.m.

So when he heard the creaking of a bed on the other side of the room, a shuffling, and then in the dim light saw someone moving around, slipping on some clothes, Wolf was confused. It crossed his mind that the person might be going to the bathroom, but on the person's way out, he saw something emit an eerie glow, lighting up Jackal's face, and, straining his eyes, Wolf saw a mobile phone in the man's hand. Who took a _phone_ to the bathroom in the middle of the night? _In fact_...Wolf's frowned deepened, and he was already sitting up in bed, pulling on a jumper. They weren't permitted to have mobile phones during training. Why did Jackal have one, and how did he think he was going to get it past his team leader?

Just as silently as Jackal, he crept across the wooden floorboards and eased his way out of the door. Eagle let out another snort behind him.

It was pitch black at this time of night – no artificial light anywhere, and the clouds blocked any moonlight there might have been. It was also below freezing and Wolf was barefoot, but he didn't worry about it. Jackal couldn't go very far.

As his gaze penetrated the darkness, searching for movement, he saw Jackal ahead, moving towards the trees. The perfect cover. For both of them.

Wolf moved at the same pace as Jackal, keeping his distance and close to anything that might conceal his presence – bushes, trees, more barracks – but, although Jackal did look round a few times, he didn't clock Wolf following him. It was only when Jackal disappeared into the trees that Wolf took a risk and moved into the open, padding as quickly but as quietly as he could. Although it wasn't strictly against the rules to be out like this at night, questions would still be asked, quite apart from not wanting to be caught by Jackal. The mud was soggy and freezing cold under his feet, but Wolf barely noticed as he moved into the thick of the evergreens. He caught sight of the eerie glow from the mobile phone again somewhere up ahead, and, although he drew behind the cover of the leaves, he inched forward, closer, so he could see Jackal. He saw his teammate frowning as he looked at his phone, and then he punched a few buttons and put the phone to his ear. The two soldiers were once again plunged into darkness. Wolf stayed very still, wishing his breath didn't come out in white clouds in the freezing air. He strained his ears, listening.

"It's Blanco," Wolf heard Jackal say quietly. Wolf didn't know Jackal's name, but he guessed this must be it. Unlike his relationship with Eagle, Fox and Snake, he had never had a desire to learn it.

"Yeah, yeah, no names over the phone; I got you."

Had Wolf been in any other profession, he might have raised his eyebrows at this. But when he was part of an organisation who insisted you only ever went by an animal code-name, he could perhaps understand the need for secrecy. Perhaps.

"What's the problem? I thought we were aiming for minimal contact; it's risky to call you, even in the middle of the night." There was a long pause in which Jackal said nothing, and Wolf assumed he must be listening to the other person speaking. Wolf started to get distracted, gritting his teeth as he reached down to rip a leech from his foot, when he heard Jackal's voice get more urgent.

"Are you _sure_ this information is correct?" Another pause. "How did you find this out?" He started to chuckle quietly. "You're right, this _is _a good opportunity. But," his voice became serious again, "are you quite sure we should change the plans to accommodate the kid? I know he's got a reputation, but, aside from being able to shoot well, he seemed harmless."

Wolf almost stopped breathing. _A kid with a reputation who can shoot well?_ Wolf only knew one person who fit that description. It didn't make sense that Jackal would be talking about him, but who else would it be?

"You're right, of course; it would give us away." Another pause. "All right; you're the boss. I'd just damned careful about how you handle that kid. He's lucky. You don't want to give him any opportunity to gain the upper hand." And with that, there was a snap as Jackal snapped the phone shut. Wolf waited, heart pumping, thudding in his ears. Jackal _couldn't_ mean Cub. Even if he didn't mean Cub, though, his conversation still sounded shady. Don't give a kid the opportunity to gain the upper hand? Admittedly Jackal could be describing any manipulative five year-old, but a kid who could _shoot well?_ With a reputation?

Wolf was so caught up with his thoughts that he'd let his guard down. He shifted his weight onto his right foot and a branch snapped under his weight. It was sharp and loud in the silence.

_Shit._

Jackal was in front of him in seconds, grabbing his arm in the darkness and twisting it behind his back, simultaneously using the light from his phone to see who it was. When he saw it was Wolf, he dropped his grip and Wolf spun around, but in the phone's glow, Jackal didn't look at all sorry. Or remotely surprised.

"Spying on me, Wolf?" His tone was almost lazy.

Wolf found his voice. "I came to find you."

"And you thought you'd find me behind a tree? How interesting."

His words weren't aggressive, but there was something there that put Wolf on the defensive. Or perhaps he was already feeling unsettled by what he'd just overheard. Either way, it made him uncomfortable. He shouldn't _have_ to defend himself; he was Jackal's superior, and Jackal was breaking the rules.

"You're not allowed a mobile phone," he said, trying to keep his voice hard.

"What're you going to do, confiscate it?"

Wolf's eyebrows shot up at this insolence. "Yes, exactly."

"And what if I don't want to hand it over?" Jackal leaned against a tree, casually flipping the mobile open and shut. It gave a strange effect, the phone light throwing his face into sharp relief every time.

Wolf struggled to keep a lid on his temper. He clenched his fists. "There are several ways we can go about this, Jackal. You can give me the fucking phone. Or we can fight it out and either way I'll go to the Sergeant and get you disciplined for disobeying orders. In real terms that means you'll be binned."

His words had the desired effect. Jackal seemed to hesitate for a second, the phone remaining open, and then he snapped it shut once more and chucked it at Wolf, who caught it in one hand.

"Are you going to give it to the Sergeant?" Jackal asked, but Wolf wasn't done yet.

"Who were you talking to?" he demanded. He could just about make out Jackal's features in the dark, but the soldier showed no expression.

"My mother." Wolf caught the sarcasm in his voice and ignored it.

"Your mother doesn't like you to use your name?"

"You _were_ spying on me!" Jackal exclaimed. Wolf decided to take a risk and lay his cards on the table.

"I heard the whole conversation. Who were you talking to? Who's the kid you were talking about?"

"I was talking to my brother. We were talking about my niece. She's a handful."

"She can shoot?" Wolf was incredulous.

"I taught her last summer."

If Wolf hadn't been so suspicious anyway, he might have accepted this explanation, save for one thing. "You referred to the kid as male." He gritted his teeth. "You were talking about Cub!"

"Cub? That kid you were looking after?" Jackal gave a short, sharp laugh. "You're bloody paranoid about him, aren't you?"

"Just answer the fucking question!" Wolf growled. "The kid you were talking about was male."

Jackal was silent for several seconds. "You must be mistaken," he said at last. "I kept the phone for family reasons. I was talking to my brother. His wife's ill and he's worried about his daughter." He sounded so certain that Wolf felt the first prickling of doubt. Was he being too suspicious? So worried about Cub being manipulated by MI6 that he somehow made every situation accommodate his concern? His hesitation was a mistake. Jackal sensed it and took advantage.

"It's late and we've got an exercise at six; I'm going back to bed." He started to walk away from Wolf, but Wolf caught his arm in a tight grip and pulled him closer again.

"If I _ever_ catch you doing anything suspicious again," he spat, "your career in the SAS will be over. I promise."

"I wasn't aware you were someone who kept your promises," Jackal said coolly. "Didn't you swear you weren't going to let that kid get mixed up with MI6 again?"

He caught Wolf so off guard with this that Wolf's grip slacked, and Jackal was almost sprinting away before Wolf's brain had caught up with what he'd said. He'd be back at the barracks before Wolf easily, and Wolf couldn't wake everyone up at this hour. Too many questions would be asked.

"_I wasn't aware you were someone who kept your promises. Did you swear you weren't going to let that kid get mixed up with MI6 again?"_

Wolf stared through the darkness. Did Jackal know something he didn't? Again he remembered the man's contact in MI6. Wolf stared down at the phone in his hand, and resisted the urge to call Fox right away. If he was caught, he'd certainly be stripped of his rank, and possibly even binned altogether. Rules were taken seriously in the SAS. Wolf wanted to scream in frustration. What could he do?

He pocketed the phone, and slowly made his way back to the barracks. Jackal was right; they needed to get some sleep before tomorrow. Maybe he could find some way to talk to Eagle and Snake about it without Jackal being there. _Had_ he been mistaken about what he'd heard? Twisted it in his head because he was already worried?

Wolf took a thirty second shower before he went to bed again to wash the mud off his feet. There was an angry-looking leech mark on his ankle that was going to hurt like a bitch when he put his boots on in the morning. Wolf didn't think about it. His thoughts remained on Jackal and Cub and Fox all through the night while the phone burned a hole in his pocket.

And still that feeling of utter hopelessness: what on earth could he _do?_

* * *

Three o'clock on the fourth of January found Alex once again sitting beside Ben in Alan Blunt's office. He'd had to leave school early (_"Hospital appointment"_). This might have bothered him but for the fact he was about to be absent from school for a few weeks. He remembered vaguely, while they waited for the other agents to arrive, that he had Chemistry coursework due in two weeks that he'd not finished. It was unlikely his teacher would cut him much slack, despite his improved grades.

Ben was looking serious. Alex noticed the man's gaze flickered over to him once or twice, and he wished he'd stop. He wasn't about to break.

The two agents arrived less than five minutes late, but still four minutes too late for Alex, who was trying to avoid looking at Ben, Blunt and Mrs. Jones simultaneously.

"Ah, Agent Limes. How good of you to join us."

Alan Blunt's tone was cool – cutting even, but the agent entered the room as if he'd arrived on time; head up, serious look and not a guilty or apologetic expression to be seen. He was tall and perhaps even good-looking, but he emitted such an aura of arrogance that it was difficult to see past it. He was perhaps around Ben's age. Like Ben, he somehow gave the impression of having seen more than his years might permit. He took a seat on the other side of Ben, nodding to him.

"Daniels." His gaze moved to Alex. "You must be Alex Rider." There was nothing in his words to suggest they knew one another, but Alex caught the man's strange tone.

"Have we met before?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "You seem familiar." The perfect way to start a working relationship: with a lie.

A flicker of anger passed over Limes's face before the emotionless mask was back in place. "You knocked me unconscious a few days ago."

"Agent Limes was assigned to follow you on New Years' Eve," Mrs. Jones cut in.

Alex felt the blush creep into his cheeks, but he held the man's gaze. "Sorry," he said. "No one told me. You just looked suspicious."

"Yeah, well, I won't be underestimating _you_ again," Limes muttered, rubbing his neck – the pressure point Alex had used to take him down.

Thankfully at that moment the second agent and last member of the team arrived. In contrast to Limes, he looked far more flustered and embarrassed. He was tall and well built, but somehow gave the impression of being smaller.

"So sorry I'm late," he said. "Ran into Smithers. He said we'd be seeing him later?"

"Of course." Mrs. Jones waved at the last seat. "Will you sit down? Have you met Ben Daniels and Alex Rider?"

The man's head jerked up. "Ben...yes, yes, I've seen you around. And Alex Rider...well, until you were mentioned at yesterday's meeting, I thought you were just a rumour. You really _are_ that young."

Alex gave a thin-lipped smile, uncomfortable at having his age pointed out. The man gave a nervous smile back, as though he couldn't quite read Alex.

"This is Agent Maximilian Lacey," Mrs. Jones informed him. Alex looked Lacey over with a more critical eye. _This_ was the agent they thought was being targeted? The man looked as though he'd come off worse in a fight with a mouse.

"You're all aware of what a sensitive operation this is," Blunt cut in, business-like, as usual. "It's essential you work together. You're our best and brightest and most trustworthy. But this is a dangerous operation and you _must_ work as a team."

"We understand this is an unusual situation for you all," Mrs. Jones said. "You're all used to working alone or in pairs. A team like this isn't our usual style. What will make it more difficult is that obviously Alex will be isolated from the rest of you as he'll be staying with the ambassador. Any contact between you and him will jeopardise the operation. The enemy must believe Alex is the ambassador's son. As we have told you, we will be advertising the fact that the ambassador's son is to accompany him to Iraq within MI6, and we will ensure Alex's name is kept out of it. To make this more convincing, from tomorrow Alex will be staying with the ambassador until they leave for Iraq on Monday."

Limes's gaze flickered to Alex and back to the heads again. "So we watch the place in Baghdad until Rider is kidnapped, we follow the kidnappers, find Rider and get him out of there."

"Exactly."

"What if we don't _see_ the kidnappers?" Max Lacey sounded nervous, as though he was more afraid of Blunt's reaction should this happen than of what it would mean.

Blunt looked at him coldly as if to reaffirm this fear. "You _will_ see them. You will station yourselves in such a way as to make it impossible for the enemy to get out without being seen. Should you fail..."

_I'm as good as dead_, Alex realised with a shiver. Mrs. Jones hastily took over.

"You won't fail," she said. "Just ensure you work as a team."

"Will we have any further backup?" Limes asked. Even though Alex had taken an immediate dislike to the man, he had to admit he had been wondering the same thing. Three agents didn't seem enough to cover _all_ sections of the building Alex would be staying in. What if they _didn't _see the kidnappers? And even if they did, how on earth were they planning to rescue him without attracting too much attention?

"No, there will be no backup," Blunt said after a pause. "Our position is compromised enough already. We want to keep the operation small. The more people involved, the more chance there is of it going wrong."

Alex did not agree at all, but kept his mouth shut. He noted Ben hadn't spoken once during the entire meeting. When Alex risked a glance at him, all he saw was the same unreadable grim, closed expression that Ben had worn since the meeting the day before. Ben did have questions for Alan Blunt, however.

"What happens when we've got Alex out?" he said. "Presumably that's our first priority. Then what?"

Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones shared a look only they understood. There was a silence as they both considered their words. It was Blunt again who finally spoke.

"The point of the mission is to discover who these people are and what they're planning. Since we don't know where their base is, it is necessary for Alex to be kidnapped. Whilst rescuing Alex, you should aim to gather as much intelligence as possible. The fact Alex has been kidnapped should not distract from the importance of the mission."

Alex felt a shiver run down his spine. Blunt's meaning was clear: _your first priority is to deliver intelligence, not to rescue Alex. _

Ben looked as though he was about to explode, but it was Limes who cut in.

"We can split up at that point," he suggested. "Two of us can find Alex whilst the other gathers intelligence, or vice versa."

Mrs. Jones looked relieved. Alex hadn't even realised she'd been anxious. "Excellent idea," she said. "You will be able to communicate with us, of course, so if you need advice at that point you can contact Headquarters." She turned her attention to Alex. "You'll be staying with the Ambassador for Iraq at his home in Suffolk from tomorrow. A car will pick you up at twelve o'clock. The Ambassador is expecting you. You may take your own clothes; you're supposed to be a normal teenager after all." To the agents she said, "We will provide Army-issued combat gear to wear in Baghdad. Remain as inconspicuous as possible, but you'll have fewer problems if you look like soldiers rather than white civilians. In fact..." She looked at her watch. "Alex, if you have no questions, you might want to see Smithers now while the rest of us discuss the cover."

Alex didn't really want to leave. He'd have preferred to hear all aspects of the mission, but he supposed he could ask Ben later. He was clearly being dismissed, and, although he resented it, feeling like a child being sent to bed early, he wasn't in the mood to argue. So he nodded and stood up, muttered a goodbye to Limes and Lacey and a 'see you later' to Ben, and left.

Smithers must have known he was coming – probably watched him approach on the CCTV – but as always, he reacted as though Alex's visit was a pleasant surprise.

"Alex, old boy!" Smithers's round face beamed as Alex knocked and put his head around the door. "Come in, come in! How've you been?"

"Not bad," Alex said, unable to resist staring around the room. It was always so _interesting_. Abandoned bits of wire, iPods, Walkmans, countless mobile phones that had all been tampered with in some way (one of which appeared to have a stun dart half-fired out of it), items of clothing and accessories, and a remote controlled car that was zooming around the room, apparently without a remote control.

"Heard about that poisoning business – terrible, terrible," Smithers said as he picked the toy car up and put it upside down on his desk. Its wheels continued to spin. "They still haven't found the people who did it?"

"No." Alex sat down on a stool on the other side of the desk. He didn't want to contemplate the prospect of more than one enemy right now; even if it were connected to this case, he didn't want to consider that the enemy might already want him dead. He changed the subject. "What've you got for me this time?"

"Well, it's been rather a challenge because of course you _want_ to be kidnapped, but they'll remove any weapons you might have, or any obvious gadgets, so it has to be subtle. Very subtle indeed." Smithers winked, and Alex had a feeling the man had something up his sleeve. He was confused, however, when he opened a drawer and pulled out a mobile phone. It was a nice phone – the latest iPhone, in fact – but it made no sense.

"Surely a phone is the first thing they'll take from me," Alex said.

Smithers wagged his finger. "Aha, exactly. It's fingerprint sensitive. As soon as anyone – _anyone_ – touches any surface of this phone except you, it will send out a distress signal to MI6. An insurance policy, if you like. Just in case your team don't manage to follow you. The signal's good for seventy-two hours."

A weight was lifted from Alex shoulders that he didn't even know he'd been carrying. So MI6 _weren't_ just going to leave him to the mercy of his kidnappers.

"It behaves as a normal phone, too, by the way. Works anywhere in the world, including above ground, below ground, in the water..." Smithers looked pleased as Alex grinned and pocketed the phone.

"Anything else?"

"Of course! It's always a pleasure to develop things for you." Smithers opened another drawer and pulled out what looked like a pile of clothing. Alex raised an eyebrow. Clothes? What use would that be?

Smithers saw his expression. "The trouble with this mission is that we _know _you're going to be kidnapped, so we know you're going to have to defend yourself. Unfortunately, as you so rightly pointed out, they're bound to take everything of use away from you. So whatever you can use needs to be cleverly concealed.

"So I use my clothing at a weapon? You want me to end up naked?" Alex couldn't help his sarcasm.

Smithers chuckled. "Certainly not – that's not a dignified way for a spy to escape. Bond was never naked unless he was in bed with a woman...perhaps you're a bit young for that. Good job too, else you'd have made my job twice as difficult!" He unfolded the first item of clothing. It was a striped pyjama top that buttoned down the front, and underneath there were a pair of trousers to match.

"I think I'd have a hard time attracting any women in those," Alex said dryly.

"Actually, they're Ted Baker," Smithers said. "At least...extremely close. But these," he tapped the buttons down the front, "are explosives."

"Exploding pyjamas," Alex muttered. "Wonderful."

"Don't you worry, they're perfectly safe. They only become dangerous when you rip the buttons _off_...they actually have to be separated from the item of clothing in order to be activated. You have three seconds before they explode, so don't hang around. They won't kill you, but they will take your hand off if you're holding one. There are a couple of stronger ones inside..." Smithers turned the top inside out, and showed Alex some 'spare' buttons attached to the label inside. "They work the same way, but you've got five seconds...you want to put some distance between yourself and these."

He folded the pyjama top again and picked up the trousers. "Now it's the drawstring that's important for these...they might well remove the drawstring in case you hang yourself – that's quite common – but if they leave it with you, you're a lucky boy. There's a skeleton key hidden inside the drawstring...quite accessible – all you have to do is pull off one end, I've made it quite easy. The key's quite thin – has to be, or it'd be bloody obvious – but it should do the trick if you need to escape. I've been instructed to tell you that you are not permitted to use this for the first seventy-two hours; this is a last resort. You need to give the other agents a chance to find out where you are – find the enemy and gather intelligence. If they haven't turned up in seventy-two hours, though, there's no guarantee they will."

_Better hope I'm still alive after seventy-two hours_, Alex thought. Out loud, his thoughts were more pragmatic: "What if I'm not kidnapped in the middle of the night?"

"That's what all this is for." Smithers gestured to the large pile of clothing. "They don't all do the same thing – the zip of these jeans, for instance, can be removed and makes a rather wonderful cutting device – so you should be protected at any time. Here, I'll show you how it works..."

Alex left forty minutes later, armed with a new mobile phone and a duffle bag of new clothing. It didn't look like he'd need to pack much of his own clothing, contrary to Mrs. Jones's suggestion.

Smithers had apologised he couldn't give him much else, but he explained there was very little that could be of use to Alex once he'd been kidnapped.

"If only kidnappers let their captives have laptops!" he'd exclaimed with a chuckle. "We'd be able to rescue everyone in a matter of minutes!"

Alex didn't like to think that this might mean they'd find it difficult to rescue him.

He let himself into Ben's flat at a little after five. As he came through the door, the phone was ringing. He dropped the duffle bag on the floor.

"Ben?" he called. There was no answer. Alex took a step towards the phone, but it must have been ringing for a while, because as he did so it stopped and switched to the answer machine. Alex shrugged and picked up the duffle bag to take to his room, but then the beep sounded on the answer machine and a woman's voice filled the hallway. It was a voice Alex recognised. He stopped dead.

"Hi Ben, this is Jack Starbright – I got your message. If Alex is having nightmares again...it usually only happens right after _something's _happened...or when he knows it's about to. So if he's started having nightmares again, that means... Ring me. We'll talk about it. In the meantime, there's not a lot you can do...hot chocolate seems to help him get to sleep, but he doesn't like to talk much so I wouldn't make too much fuss. It's...good to know someone else cares about Alex."

There came the sound of a phone being put down, and there was silence. Alex simply stood there, heart thumping painfully. He'd pushed Jack out of his mind since she'd left, made himself believe that, like everyone else around him, she didn't care about him...it was easier to cope that way. Yet it seemed she did...

_Clearly not that much, _a small voice said in the back of his mind, _else she'd be here for you right now. _

Still, hearing Jack's voice had put an awkward lump in his throat that he tried to swallow. He was missing her. Ben was great, but at the end of the day he _was _tied to MI6 – there was only so much he could do for Alex without losing his job. If Jack had known about the upcoming mission, she would have been furious – at least in the old days. She would have fussed, cooking him his favourite meals and ironing all his clothes, even if he wasn't taking any of them.

The phone rang again. Alex moved towards it and then changed his mind. The lump hadn't gone away and he didn't trust his voice right now. It went through to the answer phone.

"And he likes milk but no sugar in his hot chocol—"

Alex snatched up the phone. "Jack?"

There was a small, shocked silence. "Alex?"

"Er, yeah, it's me..." Alex wasn't sure why he'd picked the phone up and he was beginning to regret it. Their friendship had once been so easy, and now he had no idea what to say. "Er...how are you?" Stiff, formal.

"Yeah, I'm great, I'm..." Jack paused. "Missing you, actually."

"I..." Alex didn't want to say it – he didn't want to make Jack feel bad; it was his fault she'd left, really – but he knew he'd regret it if he didn't. "I miss you too."

"How're you finding staying with Ben? He seems nice." She seemed to realise her mistake almost immediately: that Alex might not have known that Ben had contacted her, and he may not have wanted Alex to know. But she explained, in that light-hearted, teasing way that only Jack could do: "He rang me up. Wanted advice about you. And your hot chocolate habit."

"I know, I heard your first message."

Jack seemed relieved at this. "Oh...well, that makes it easier...I was wondering how to bring it up. Are you OK? What have Blunt and Jones done this time?"

Alex opened his mouth to explain – if there was one person who understood him, it was Jack. But then he abruptly closed it. She hadn't wanted to be involved in this anymore. He couldn't tell her what was going on.

"Nothing," he said. "It's just old stuff. I'm fine."

"Alex..." Jack said warningly.

"I'm fine." He almost snapped it. She'd made it so this wasn't her business anymore; he was under no obligation to tell her his thoughts now. "I have to go; football practice," he said shortly. "Nice talking to you." The stiff formality was back.

"Alex –"

"Bye, Jack." He put the phone down. Part of him instantly regretted it; she'd been trying to reach out to him and he'd pushed her away. The larger part of him knew he had to. She'd gone now. His picking up the phone had been a moment of weakness. It was better for both of them if he didn't off load his problems.

He leaned his back against the wall and slowly sank onto the floor. It was the first time he'd appreciated how desperately lonely he felt.

* * *

Jack stared at the phone for several long seconds after she heard the dial tone as Alex hung up. Alex had never been that abrupt with her before. He wasn't a talker, but he'd always told her what was going on, even if he didn't tell her how he felt about it.

_Yes, well, that was before you abandoned him, _a nasty little voice said in her head.

_I didn't _abandon _him. I made sure he had somewhere to go._

_You left him in the clutches of MI6. Now look what's happened._

_It was never supposed to be like this! I was just a housekeeper and child minder for a banker. I didn't know I was going to get so tied up with the British Secret Service. It was really hard. We're not even family._

_He's like a brother to you, though. Always has been. He needs you. It's not his fault he got tied up in all this, either._

Jack had no argument to counter that. In frustration she threw the phone across the room. It made a mark on the wallpaper.

Jack sat down on her parents' sofa and cried.

* * *

A/N: Slightly shorter chapter, but an appropriate place to stop – the action will all kick off in the next chapter, which I PROMISE will not take as long. Please review and let me know what you think!


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